The Mage's Assassin
by Garnet Seren
Summary: The long road was only the beginning. What does fate have in store for (f)Amell and Zevran after their initial, somewhat unorthodox, encounter? What significance does their meeting have on their lives, Amell's companions and their quest to stop the Blight? Only the maker knows... FYI written in UK English, not US.
1. The Long Road

**The Long Road** (Amell PoV)

'_What a sight we must be'_ she thought to herself as the four of them drudged along the rutted earthen road. She knew full well what Alistair and Sten thought of the four women making the scouting party, but as she pointed out, Bodahn and Sandal were prime targets for bandits who would certainly think twice about robbing a merchant with a Templar, a mabari and a behemoth of a Qunari guarding the wagon. So that left herself, Wynne, Morrigan and Leliana scouting the roads. A chuckle escaped her without warning, earning her a scowl from the witch.

"What on earth are you laughing for?" Morrigan demanded, her toned clipped as usual.

"I was thinking, my dear witch, that if it wasn't for Wynne, other travellers might take use for ladies of negotiable affection," she stated, unable to hide her grin. Really, it was true. Morrigan's incredibly revealing purple linen and silver chain top left little to the imagination, her own Archon Robes were barely made modest by her thigh high boots and wolf skin shrug, even Leliana's leather armour gave an eyeful of cleavage.

The raven haired witch twitched her purple mouth in an almost smile. "You have a point Amell," she conceded.

Before she could make any retort about being called by her last name, they were halted in their tracks as an ashen haired woman literally barrelled into her. "Oh, thank the maker," the woman panted. "We need help, they attack the wagon. Please, help us." The travel grabbed her hand earnestly.

"Or… people could take us for soft touches," Morrigan stated dryly.

"Garnet, we must help them," Leliana argued, her accented voice gently pleading.

With a sigh, her shoulder's sagged as she nodded her head in agreement. It wasn't that she didn't want to help the woman, but since Garnet had left the Circle Tower to become a Grey Warden, just once she wanted their travelling to go quietly, instead of some bandit, assassin or darkspawn brawl happening. However, the Maker never heeded her wish.

"Follow me, I'll take you to them," the woman said, quickly setting off further up the path.

"At least it's the direction we were going in," she stated, catching Morrigan's eye.

"For a change," the witch scoffed.

A few minutes jog brought them to the sight of an over turned wagon, it's oxen slain. _'Poor beast'_ she thought. A man caught her eye, bronzed skin and golden hair. To say he was handsome was an understatement, though something had set her sixth sense ringing alarm bells. "Be on your guard," she said, barely above a whisper. Slowly, Garnet unslung her Ash longbow. Just because she was an accomplished Mage didn't mean she was a one trick pony, and something she prided herself on, since leaving the tower, was how quickly she had mastered the bow.

The woman they had been following nodded to the man, and Garnet heard the faint beginnings of an ominous creak, causing her to subtly shift her feet into a battle ready stance. The man moved closer, allowing her to see the curving tattoo across the left side of his face, then she noticed his ears. He wasn't a man, but an elf. _'Explains his looks'_ she thought. The elf's mouth pulled into an arrogant smirk, and he raised his hand in a nonchalant manner. At the signal, dozens of armour clad bandits emerged from the surroundings.

"And this is why we shouldn't help strangers," Morrigan muttered.

As she was about to reply, the creaking got louder and at the same time she heard Wynne shout: "Watch out child."

On instinct, Garnet leapt out of the way of a falling tree. _'Son of a…'_

"The Grey Warden dies here!" the elf proclaimed, cutting off her curse.

'_Not a chance!'_ Scrambling to her feet, she let off a powerful Winter's Grasp spell directed at the elf, only vaguely aware that Wynne and Morrigan had the same idea. Leliana let out a fierce battle cry, one that Garnet knew would herald Alistair's and Sten's arrival shortly. Though, hopefully, they wouldn't need their help.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****First and foremost, dedicated to Lady Velvet C. Peterson, who introduced me to the world of Dragon Age, igniting in me an equal obsession with Zevran as hers! I'm not sure how regular I will be updating this story, as I'm in the middle of a Mass Effect story but I will try to write for this a few times a month. It will be an Amell/Zevran romance…**


	2. Awakening

**Awakening **(Zevran PoV)

The first thing he noticed, and it came as some surprise, was that he was breathing. Granted, it was hardly an easy affair, but still… it meant he was alive. He was yet to decide if that was a good thing. The next thing he was aware of, was what felt like the toe of a steal boot pushing him to roll over onto his back. And it was a push, hardly gentle, but it certainly wasn't a kick. That was also surprising.

"I think this one's still alive," said the voice that presumable belonged to the boot.

With his eyes still refusing to open, he had to rely on his ears. Unfortunately, all they were telling him was that the voice was male. Which didn't seem to account for any of the four he had led an attack against. They had been shapely, good looking women.

"Kill him," another voice stated gruffly. This was again a male voice, harsh and slightly accented.

'_Qunari?'_ he wondered vaguely. Perhaps he should have been more concerned with the words than the voice, however he was still unsure as to whether being alive was a good thing or not. The pain that radiated from his chest and back were firmly in the 'no' camp right now.

"A good idea. I could set him alight, if you like?" That voice was female, and sounded as if it was smiling at the idea. If it didn't hurt so much to move, he might have shuddered. Burning alive was _not_ high up his preferred methods to die.

"No!" gasped another female voice. "That is not right. Even though he attacked us, we should be merciful." The voice was slightly sweet, young sounding and heavily accented. _'Orlais?'_ he wondered vaguely. He rather liked this voice. "If we are to kill him, we should grant it quickly. Minimise his suffering." Or not. Since he was starting to think living might be the preferred option, despite the pain.

"Whatever you want to do, you should do it soon," said the first voice. "This stab wound looks pretty nasty, it may have punctured a lung."

'_Ah'_ was about the only thing he could think after hearing that piece of information. It certainly would account for the pain in his chest.

He heard a small sigh. It sounded feminine. "Leli, will you bind his hands? Preferably behind his back, if you can do it without causing more damage to his chest."

"If you're sure," came the hesitate answer from the Orlesian sounding voice.

Within seconds, he found himself being rolled onto his other side, the one without the stab wound. It was a push, not a shove. Once again surprising. Then his wrists were seized and he felt rough rope being wounded around them. He wasn't inclined to fight, in truth, he doubted he had the energy to do so. The pain certainly wasn't allowing him to put up any resistance. All he could offer was a grunt of agony as he found a new injury. It seemed his left shoulder was quite possibly dislocated. Then he was forced, albeit gently, onto his back again.

He heard the sound of light footsteps, before he felt a small hand press onto his injured joint. He bit back a whimper, determined not to show weakness. After all, the Crows taught him to never show emotion. However, the owner of the hand seemed to sense this, for the pressure lessened.

"I'm going to heal you, then you're going to answer some questions. Understand?" this was the soft and gentle voice from a moment ago.

Both the words and the tone surprised him. And he managed to crack his eyes open for a moment, before clamping them shut again. The light sent spears of pain stabbing into his brain. He let out an involuntary hiss, before feeling warm hands on either side of his head.

"This will numb the pain a little," the soft voice told him.

"What is the point? Torture gets answers quicker," the Qunari sounding voice stated. That was a voice he was really starting to dislike.

"I'm not a fan of torture, but is he really worth healing? He _did_ just try to kill you," said the first voice. Another, he was not very fond of.

"I am forced to agree," said a new voice. This was another female, but sounded older than the rest. "It is not wise to waste your mana needlessly." Once again, he wasn't warming to this voice either, since he thought stopping him dying wasn't needless. It was very much needed, as he'd finally decided he rather wanted to live.

The owner of the soft voice sighed again, he knew this as he felt the ghost of her breathe skitter across his face as she exhaled. "Can you all go wait over there?" she asked as one hand left the side of his head, presumably directing her companions. "Cadoc, here boy." With that, the unmistakable smell of mabari drew closer. "Stay." There was a bark, which he assumed was the dog agreeing.

Once the hand returned to his head, he quickly felt a coolness coil around his brain. It was soothing, helping to ease the throbbing to the point he dared to attempt to open his eyes again. He wasn't sure if he was glad that he managed. In front of him was a beautiful woman. Pale skin, flaming red hair and startling green eyes. A jade coloured tattoo adorning her pretty face. Unfortunately, it was the face of the warden he had been trying to kill.

'_Ah'_ he thought again. Being at the complete mercy of someone whose life you are, or were, actively trying to end… never a good thing.

There was a bare twitch to her mouth, indicating a brief smile. "Hello," she greeted quietly, meeting his eyes. He would have laughed at the absurdity of that, if it didn't hurt so much to simply breathe. "Now I am sure you're not going to die from a brain injury, I'm going to move onto your lungs," she told him. "Then, you can answer some questions, and depending if I like your answers, I will heal you other injuries. Sound like a good deal?"

"Yes," he managed to wheeze. Instantly regretting it as he hissed again in pain.

"Easy," the warden soothed, as she began to loosen his leather chest plate.

Normally, he would have whipped off some quip about how beautiful women never could resist undressing him. However a combination of pain and confusion stole his usual, playful nature. She was being utterly gently with him, carefully moving the material in a way that caused him the least amount of discomfort. When she had access to his naked skin, her touch was almost tender and that alone was beyond perplexing. He had tried to kill this woman, yet here she was willingly tending to him. This alone made him decide, if she let him live, he'd ask to join her. He was so intrigued by this woman. She was an utter puzzle to him, one that he wanted, needed, to solve.

The healing of his chest was not pleasant, nor soothing, compared to how the warden had healed his head. He could feel the itch as muscles slowly knitted back together, and the unnerving crack as broken ribs realigned. There was no control over his wincing or gasps of pain. Usually, he would be embarrassed by this display of weakness, his normal bravado having deserted him. However, after each of his acknowledgements of pain, the warden gently hushed him or murmured platitudes. There was a final crack, one that left him groaning. Of course, it was that moment the warden began to question him.

"Now, I want some answers," she stated. Her voice was still pleasant, but there was a force behind it now.

"Ah, so I'm going to be interrogated. Let me save you some time," he offered, some of his smoothness and bravado coming back to his demeanour. "My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here with the sole purpose of slaying any remaining Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly…"

Oddly, he found himself on edge as he waited her reply. Something he'd never worried about before, as his charm had always carried him through any situation. He could hear scoffs and murmurs of dissent from the warden's companions who stood not far away, along with a hostile growl from the mabari by her side. However, as he looked up at her, he could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****So, much like my ME fanfic, this will be told from alternating points of voice. If anyone would like to know, Cadoc is a Welsh name meaning battle. I thought it was very fitting for a war dog. **


	3. An Unlikely Ally

**An Unlikely Ally **(Amell PoV)

Sitting back on her haunches, careful not to reveal an eyeful of what was under her robes, Garnet regarded her would be assassin. Despite his words and the situation, she couldn't help the twitch of a smile that threatened to form on her lips. He certainly intrigued her.

"I'm rather happy you failed," she stated, eyeing him critically.

"So would I be, in your shoes," he acknowledged, his voice as exotic as his looks. "For me, however, it sets a… rather poor precedent. Doesn't it? Getting captured by a target, even one as lovely as yourself, seems a tad detrimental to ones budding assassin career."

Garnet found herself biting the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling. Sure, she knew she should be angry at the elf, he had just tried to kill her after all, but there was something about his bravado that made her curious about him.

"Too bad for you then," Garnet retorted sarcastically. If he wanted to play this game, she was happy to oblige him, at least for now.

Zevran gave a dramatic sigh, evidently she had healed his lungs pretty well. "Yes… it's true. Too bad for me."

She had to admit, she hadn't really expected him to volunteer any information. It was surprising, if not more than a little suspicious. "Why are you telling me this?" Garnet asked evenly.

"Why not?" he scoffed. "I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale… precisely."

This only raised more questions and she found herself frowning slightly. "Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?"

"Loyalty is an _interesting _concept," Zevran replied. "If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further."

Crossing her arms underneath her bust, Garnet scrutinised the elf's face, trying not to get distracted by his good looks. There was also the small, self-assured smirk he'd been wearing throughout the conversation. Surprisingly, for someone laying bound on a dirt road, he somehow managed to pull it off. However, it was the honest look in his unusual amber eyes, that was quite at odds with the smirk, which drew her attention.

"Against my better judgement, I'm listening," she told him, a half smile forming. "Though make it quick."

"Well, here's the thing… I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit," he explained. "That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living and you are obviously the sort to give the Crows pause. So… let me serve _you_ instead."

Behind her there was a chorus of "No!", "Not a chance" and "You have to be jesting". Even Cadoc gave a low growl, but Garnet kept her gaze locked onto Zevran's eyes as she held up a hand for quiet. There was something very earnest in their depths, something she was sure that even the elf wasn't aware of. She had to admit, failed assassination attempt aside, he had seemed a fierce fighter during their skirmish. With a combat style similar to Leliana's, he could prove an asset, though she wasn't fully convinced he wouldn't stab her in the back.

"Can I expect the same amount of loyalty?" she questioned pointedly.

"I happen to be a very loyal person," Zevran defended, sounding a little affronted. "Up until the point someone expects me to die for failing. That's not a fault is it? Really? I mean… unless you are the sort that would do the same thing. In which case I… don't come very well recommended I suppose."

Once again, she was back to biting the insides of her cheek, both of them this time. The complete slip in his façade, the slight stumble in his words and the softening of his expression was rather… cute. It oddly reminded her a little of Cullen, her favourite Templar back at the tower, back before Uldred's betrayal. Even the joke at the end spoke of barely concealed nervousness, rather than any bravado.

"And what's to stop you finishing the job later?" Garnet demanded, determined to keep the assassin on the back foot.

"To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I've paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to join up with someone they can't touch."

"You are not seriously listening to him, are you?" Alistair called, sounding incredulous.

"Even if I kill you now, they might just kill me on principle for failing the first time," the elf continued, ignoring the Templar's outburst. "Honestly, I… would rather take my chances with you."

"And what exactly would you want in return?" she asked, drumming her fingers against her upper arm. If his story was true, which Garnet had to admit seemed likely since the elven population was hardly given equal and fair treatment, she felt sorry for him.

"Well, let's see… being allowed to live would be nice," he replied, a rather small smile on his lips. "And would make me marginally more useful too."

"Marginally," Garnet agreed dryly.

The elf gave a quiet, almost derisory sounding snort. "And, further down the line, if you decide you no longer have need of me then I go on my way. Until then, I'm yours," he continued. The last two words seeming to hold thinly veiled double meaning.

She hummed in thought. "Supposing I believe you," she said at length. "Why should I want your services?"

"Why? Because I am skilled at many things," the elf replied, his confidence evidently coming back. "From fighting, to stealth and picking locks. I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more… sophisticated. Now that my attempt has failed."

"Not that I'm particularly worried about them, after your failure," she couldn't help but tease.

"You wound me," he replied, his smirk fully back. "I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer," he goaded. "Warm your bed." His voice dropped to a lower pitch. "Fend off unwanted suitors, no?" The last offer was punctuated with a sly glance towards Alistair.

Unable to stop herself, Garnet chuckled. "Bed-warming might be nice," she replied, dropping her voice to match his husky tone. She could hear Alistair splutter behind her, and both Morrigan and Leliana stifling their own chuckles.

"See… I knew we could find a common interest. Or two, or three. Really, I can go all night." There was no denying the innuendo.

"Dear Maker," Wynne muttered, barely under her breathe.

"So, what shall it be?" Zevran questioned. "I will even shine armour. You won't find a better deal, I promise."

"See Alistair, he's even got an offer for you," she called, giving the flustered looking Templar a wink over her shoulder. "Very well, _Zev_, I accept your offer."

"A fine plan," Morrigan drawled. "But I would examine your food and drink far more closely from now on. Where I, you."

"That's excellent advice for anyone," the elf quipped.

Leliana came to kneel by her side, unsheathing a dagger and handing it to Garnet as she did. "Welcome Zevran. Having an Antivan Crow join us, does sound like a fine plan."

"Oh? You're another companion to be then? I wasn't aware such loveliness existed amongst adventurers, surely," he replied, a hint of laughter in his voice.

The bard look positively aghast. "Or maybe not." With that, Leliana quickly rose to her feet and swiftly joined the others by Bodahn's wagon that had just trundled up to join them.

"Behave," she scolded the elf. "Or I will roll you on your injured arm to cut you bindings."

"You are not so cruel, my lovely warden," Zevran smiled.

"Garnet," she corrected him, gently helping him to sit up "Or Amell. Either will do, I get enough of the title everywhere else. I don't need it from my travelling companions as well."

Deftly, she cut the rope binding his wrists. Then slid the dagger along the ground towards the group with her outer hand, whilst the one nearest to him held his arm in place to minimise any discomfort from the change in position. She caught his questioning look.

"How stupid do you think I am?" Garnet asked. "You _did_ just try to kill me." Without another word, she set about healing his shoulder. Helping the torn muscles to mend and soothing away the pain.

Once that was done, she stood, offering her hand to him. Zevran took it, allowing her to help him to his feet. There was a quick flash of agony across his handsome face, as his knees buckled and he hunched forward. Without thinking, Garnet halted his fall by catching him around the waist, only belatedly realising that closing the distance gave him a real opportunity to stab her in the gut, should he carry a concealed weapon. Instead, she found his weight resting against her. One of his hands on her hip, the other gripping her bicep and his head resting on the shoulder above. He was panting and slightly trembling with the effort to remain on his feet.

"Back?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yes," he replied through gritted teeth.

Shifting her weight slightly, enabling her to reach his back, she gently began to run her free hand down his spine. Caressing his naked skin in a soothing manner as she sought to ease the pain and mend the unseen injury. Minutes passed by as the two stood together, bones and muscles quickly healing, until finally he raised his head from her shoulder. Though he didn't move far.

"I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you. Until such a time you choose to release me from it. I'm your man, without reservation. This I swear," he all but whispered in her ear before stepping away from her. He gave her a slight bow. "My thanks."

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****Mmm… topless Zevran. Simply, because! That &amp; it's unlikely he'd have got away without any injuries what so ever, so hopefully this made it a little more believable. **


	4. A Simple Gift

**Fireside **(Amell PoV)

She awoke, a silent scream stuck in her throat. _'Maker damned nightmares!'_ Ever since Ostagar, Garnet had been plagued with reliving the battle every time she closed her eyes, sometimes it would morph into watching Duncan die, other times the Ogre they had fought turned into the Archdemon. Whichever the culmination, she would always wake in a cold sweat and there was little point trying to sleep afterwards.

After running a hand through her tousled hair, she dressed quickly, pausing only to wrap a warm woollen blanket about her shoulders, before venturing out of her tent into the night air. The sharp chill heralded the swiftly approaching winter and she shuddered a little. On nights like this, Garnet usually took solace from watching the stars, or staring deep into the camp fire embers. However, the lone figure of Zevran staring into the flames caught her attention. Quietly, with Cadoc by her side, she went to join him and she was unsurprised when the elf turned to her.

"It is a good thing, ladies such as yourself are already too lovely to need beauty sleep," he greeted, shifting sideways to allow her a space on the pelt.

"Flatterer," she smiled, taking the offered seat. "I didn't expect anyone to be awake."

"So you came to ravish me in my sleep, no? An interesting prospect," Zevran teased.

Deciding to play along, if only to chase away the thoughts of her nightmare, Garnet shrugged. "What if I did?" she asked flippantly.

There was a chuckle from the elf. "Well here I am."

"So I see," she drawled, turning her attention to the fire. "And since you're awake and spoiled my plans, care to answer some questions instead?"

"Oh, how cruel you are to get a poor man's hopes up," he grinned. "Though as long as you make the questions interesting, this should be good. Go ahead."

Out of the corner of her eye, Garnet noticed the way he shivered, despite the blanket wrapped about his shoulders. It was the one she had brought from the Tower when she had first left with Duncan. _'Obviously not warm enough!'_ she realised. Without a second thought, Garnet shuffled closer to Zevran and added one side of her blanket to his. She watched a look of surprise flash across his amber eyes before he grinned and returned the favour, leaving his arm loosely wrapped around her waist. Oddly, Garnet found she didn't mind. There was a grunt as Cadoc flung himself down, unceremoniously, behind them. Adding his heat to theirs.

"What does it take to become an assassin?" she asked, her eyes falling to Zevran's sword and dagger that lay an arm's width away.

"That is what you what you wish to now? How very unexpected," he chuckled. "Well, my dear Grey Warden, the Crow's would have you believe that it is an involved process that takes years of training. The sort that tests both your resolve and your endurance. Survive that process and maybe, just maybe, you're good enough to start being considered one of them. But, quite frankly, the truth is all it requires is a desire to kill people for a living. It is surprising how well one can do in such a field."

Unable to control it, Garnet gave a shudder. She still remembered the elf telling her he had been bought from the slave trade by the Crows. If that was true, it must have been an ordeal for him, yet she doubted he'd appreciate her condolences. "You did quite well, no doubt? You wouldn't still be a Crow if all your assassinations went as poorly as mine," she joked instead.

That earned her a laugh as he pulled her a little tighter against him, evidently thinking her shudder was from the cold. "Within the Crows I did," he conceded. "But it has been something that the Crows have devoted a great deal of time to perfecting. An assassin simply specialises in striking from stealth and in maximising that first attack to be as lethal as possible. Debilitating your foe by poison or by crippling their limbs, makes any follow up combat you have to engage in that much simpler."

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she gave an amused snort. "Guess that explains the tree. I thought it was less than subtle for an assassin, though considering how it failed miserably, I guess poison is your preferred method?"

"It is," Zevran agreed, smiling impishly. "It's not something inherent to an assassin's skills however, merely something complimentary. Of course the Crows like to pretend that their abilities are trade secrets, shrouded in shadows and wrapped in a blanket of mystery. So, let's just keep this between you and me, shall we?"

"Well, we've so far survived Alistair's attempts to kill us with food poisoning, but better get you to taste the food first whenever you cook then," Garnet grinned earning her another surprised look. "What? You thought you could get out of your fair share of duties?"

"Not at all. I did not expect you to trust me, that is all," he replied seriously.

"We shall see, thankfully it's Morrigan's turn this week and Leliana's next, but we will see. As for keeping this between you and me, depends on what you're willing to teach me to buy my silence," she told him, a mischievous look entering her eyes.

"You wish to become an assassin my dear? I could certainly teach you, but I won't," Zevran said quietly. "I swore to the Crows that the things they taught me were to remain a secret, and while yes, they are already angry at me, I would rather not push things you see."

Garnet regarded him quietly for a moment, she hadn't seen him so serious, even when death was staring him in the face. "Actually, I was just interested in the poisons. I suspect they could be useful to know, and understanding how they're made would help me and Wynne with creating antidotes. However, I'll respect your word Zev. Do not worry."

"If this is the reason, and you are truly insistent… let me think about it," he smiled, turning his gaze back to the fire. "The Crows are already angry at me, yes. Who knows?"

"Thank you," she said, stifling a yawn and shifting to her knees. "Bodahn got a message that an acquaintance of his will be in the Denerim market the next few days, so we're heading there just after sunrise."

"Hmmm, we should get there just before nightfall then," Zevran mused.

"If no more would be assassins try and attack," Garnet teased, moving to wrap her blanket fully around him. "Here, might take the chill off. Try get some rest."

It surprised her, when he gently caught her hand and kissed her knuckles in a debonair manner. "With thoughts of you in my head, I am sure I will have the most pleasant dreams," he flirted.

"Good night, _again_, Zev," she chuckle, moving to stand. With a low whistle to Cadoc, she strode for her tent, determined not to give a backward glance to the elf. How was an assassin so charming? That was a complete crime.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****Just a few ideas following on from the last chapter that popped up whilst watching the in game cutscenes/conversations, trying to establish something logical about how these two progress from trying to kill each whilst keeping to the given script/story.**


	5. Fireside

**Fireside **(Amell PoV)

She awoke, a silent scream stuck in her throat. _'Maker damned nightmares!'_ Ever since Ostagar, Garnet had been plagued with reliving the battle every time she closed her eyes, sometimes it would morph into watching Duncan die, other times the Ogre they had fought turned into the Archdemon. Whichever the culmination, she would always wake in a cold sweat and there was little point trying to sleep afterwards.

After running a hand through her tousled hair, she dressed quickly, pausing only to wrap a warm woollen blanket about her shoulders, before venturing out of her tent into the night air. The sharp chill heralded the swiftly approaching winter and she shuddered a little. On nights like this, Garnet usually took solace from watching the stars, or staring deep into the camp fire embers. However, the lone figure of Zevran staring into the flames caught her attention. Quietly, with Cadoc by her side, she went to join him and she was unsurprised when the elf turned to her.

"It is a good thing, ladies such as yourself are already too lovely to need beauty sleep," he greeted, shifting sideways to allow her a space on the pelt.

"Flatterer," she smiled, taking the offered seat. "I didn't expect anyone to be awake."

"So you came to ravish me in my sleep, no? An interesting prospect," Zevran teased.

Deciding to play along, if only to chase away the thoughts of her nightmare, Garnet shrugged. "What if I did?" she asked flippantly.

There was a chuckle from the elf. "Well here I am."

"So I see," she drawled, turning her attention to the fire. "And since you're awake and spoiled my plans, care to answer some questions instead?"

"Oh, how cruel you are to get a poor man's hopes up," he grinned. "Though as long as you make the questions interesting, this should be good. Go ahead."

Out of the corner of her eye, Garnet noticed the way he shivered, despite the blanket wrapped about his shoulders. It was the one she had brought from the Tower when she had first left with Duncan. _'Obviously not warm enough!'_ she realised. Without a second thought, Garnet shuffled closer to Zevran and added one side of her blanket to his. She watched a look of surprise flash across his amber eyes before he grinned and returned the favour, leaving his arm loosely wrapped around her waist. Oddly, Garnet found she didn't mind. There was a grunt as Cadoc flung himself down, unceremoniously, behind them. Adding his heat to theirs.

"What does it take to become an assassin?" she asked, her eyes falling to Zevran's sword and dagger that lay an arm's width away.

"That is what you what you wish to now? How very unexpected," he chuckled. "Well, my dear Grey Warden, the Crow's would have you believe that it is an involved process that takes years of training. The sort that tests both your resolve and your endurance. Survive that process and maybe, just maybe, you're good enough to start being considered one of them. But, quite frankly, the truth is all it requires is a desire to kill people for a living. It is surprising how well one can do in such a field."

Unable to control it, Garnet gave a shudder. She still remembered the elf telling her he had been bought from the slave trade by the Crows. If that was true, it must have been an ordeal for him, yet she doubted he'd appreciate her condolences. "You did quite well, no doubt? You wouldn't still be a Crow if all your assassinations went as poorly as mine," she joked instead.

That earned her a laugh as he pulled her a little tighter against him, evidently thinking her shudder was from the cold. "Within the Crows I did," he conceded. "But it has been something that the Crows have devoted a great deal of time to perfecting. An assassin simply specialises in striking from stealth and in maximising that first attack to be as lethal as possible. Debilitating your foe by poison or by crippling their limbs, makes any follow up combat you have to engage in that much simpler."

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she gave an amused snort. "Guess that explains the tree. I thought it was less than subtle for an assassin, though considering how it failed miserably, I guess poison is your preferred method?"

"It is," Zevran agreed, smiling impishly. "It's not something inherent to an assassin's skills however, merely something complimentary. Of course the Crows like to pretend that their abilities are trade secrets, shrouded in shadows and wrapped in a blanket of mystery. So, let's just keep this between you and me, shall we?"

"Well, we've so far survived Alistair's attempts to kill us with food poisoning, but better get you to taste the food first whenever you cook then," Garnet grinned earning her another surprised look. "What? You thought you could get out of your fair share of duties?"

"Not at all. I did not expect you to trust me, that is all," he replied seriously.

"We shall see, thankfully it's Morrigan's turn this week and Leliana's next, but we will see. As for keeping this between you and me, depends on what you're willing to teach me to buy my silence," she told him, a mischievous look entering her eyes.

"You wish to become an assassin my dear? I could certainly teach you, but I won't," Zevran said quietly. "I swore to the Crows that the things they taught me were to remain a secret, and while yes, they are already angry at me, I would rather not push things you see."

Garnet regarded him quietly for a moment, she hadn't seen him so serious, even when death was staring him in the face. "Actually, I was just interested in the poisons. I suspect they could be useful to know, and understanding how they're made would help me and Wynne with creating antidotes. However, I'll respect your word Zev. Do not worry."

"If this is the reason, and you are truly insistent… let me think about it," he smiled, turning his gaze back to the fire. "The Crows are already angry at me, yes. Who knows?"

"Thank you," she said, stifling a yawn and shifting to her knees. "Bodahn got a message that an acquaintance of his will be in the Denerim market the next few days, so we're heading there just after sunrise."

"Hmmm, we should get there just before nightfall then," Zevran mused.

"If no more would be assassins try and attack," Garnet teased, moving to wrap her blanket fully around him. "Here, might take the chill off. Try get some rest."

It surprised her, when he gently caught her hand and kissed her knuckles in a debonair manner. "With thoughts of you in my head, I am sure I will have the most pleasant dreams," he flirted.

"Good night, _again_, Zev," she chuckle, moving to stand. With a low whistle to Cadoc, she strode for her tent, determined not to give a backward glance to the elf. How was an assassin so charming? That was a complete crime.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****Just a few ideas following on from the last chapter that popped up whilst watching the in game cutscenes/conversations, trying to establish something logical about how these two progress from trying to kill each whilst keeping to the given script/story.**


	6. Trial by Euphemism

**Trial by Euphemism **(Zevran PoV)

Being in Denerim put him on edge, not that he let it show. He had the reputation of a fearless, loveable rogue to uphold after all, but when the warden had asked him to accompany her into the city… well, Zevran was starting to admit he had a problem saying no whenever she turned her brilliant green eyes on him. So, here he was, in the bustling market square with Garnet, her mabari and Leliana, speaking with a fellow Antivan... or at least the warden was. There was something about the human man that made Zevran try and blend into the crowd, silently observing but not drawing attention to himself. As soon as he heard the man state that he handled "other affairs", Zevran's blood chilled. Something was definitely off. Catching the warden's eye, he gave a subtle signal they should move on. Thankfully, she seemed to understand, for moments later the four of them were making their way back towards the city gate.

"Explain at camp," Garnet said in a low whisper as she had past him and he happily nodded in agreement.

However, they had barely made it to the street housing the gates before the sound of a lone person running met his ears. As one, they all turned to face their pursuer, finding a young human boy. He couldn't have been more than seven, and Zevran couldn't help wonder if he, himself, had ever looked so innocent.

"Message for you milady," the youngster beamed, holding out an envelope.

"Than…" Garnet began as she accepted the item.

"Must go, more things to deliver," the boy interrupted, rushing off.

Zevran watched as the warden chuckled, handing a small pouch that jingled faintly with the sound of a few coppers to her mabari. With a low whistle, she sent the dog after the child, and he caught up with the boy quickly. In the near distance, Zevran could see the boy gingerly take the offered bag from Cadoc and widen his eyes in delight when he opened it. Zevran had expected the youth to simply scamper off, but instead he turned back to them an offered the warden a small bow. Garnet answered with a wave, before turning her attention back to the envelope in her hand.

"Shall we see what my new friend brought us?" she asked quietly, already breaking the seal.

Sidling closer to her, Zevran wondered if Garnet realised she had probably just bought that boy's loyalty, or at very least his favour, with that little gift. Or even if she had planned it.

"You know, if you keep handing out coppers like that, we'll end up with a hoard of children following us," Leliana smiled. "And after Lothering, didn't Morrigan threaten to poison you if that happened again?"

The bard's word's made Zevran believe that, no, the warden hadn't planned it. If anything, it was an act of kindness done for its own sake, and a regular occurrence. That thought puzzled him all the more. In his experience, people didn't do that sort of thing.

"No, she threatened to slip mayapple into Alistair's food if he continued to teach the children the entirety of the Chant of Light," Garnet replied, her eyes skimming over the parchment, reading as she spoke. Her brow furrowed, bringing back Zevran's discordant feeling from earlier. "An anonymous letter asking us to a meeting in the Gnawed Noble Tavern."

"I suspect it will be in one of the back rooms," he advised. "Such things usually are, but at least it is not some grimy backstreet."

"So it will only be blood, and not undetermined filth that will be soiling our clothes when this goes awry?" Garnet quipped, handing the parchment to Leliana for safekeeping.

"Ah, always the optimist my dear," he grinned, forcing joviality he didn't entirely feel. "Lead on, I shall follow." The mabari barked, seemingly in agreement and Leliana hummed her own assent.

Quickly, they retraced their steps back to the market and further past the stalls to the tavern. As they walked the halls, no one paid them any heed and they soon found the most likely room. Upon entering, they were greeted by the same man from the market. Now his face wasn't shielded by the shadows of hanging carpets and silks, Zevran recognised him for who he was, Master Ignacio. The Crow's most widely travelled handler. A fact that didn't bode well.

"You are here about the note?" Ignacio greeted. "Maybe we have some things we can discuss?"

The double question put Zevran on edge, it was a characteristic most runners had when hiring help, which was a situation he was loathed to let the warden walk into unprepared. Without thinking, he shifted his stance, guarding Garnet from one of Ignacio's nearby henchmen.

"See the conversation stays civil," he warned in a clipped tone. "If this is a trap, I…"

The master gave a crooked smile. "Zevran, isn't it? You're Taliesen's _responsibility_. Other Crow's may try to kill you, but in my eyes, you are already dead. So, you are of no notice, but the warden here… she is of great _interest_ to me." With that, Ignacio moved swiftly to capture Garnet's hand, and kissed her knuckles.

Zevran felt himself bristle, choosing to file the unwelcome fact about Taliesen away for a quieter time, he honed himself on the task of protecting the warden. Though he couldn't decide why the human touching her angered him so, all he could think was that a man like Ignacio was not worthy to be in her presence, let only lay a finger on her.

"I'm listening," Garnet replied, almost haughtily as she extracted her hand.

"Ferelden is a busy place. Blight, civil war, other mayhem, lots of people not getting along. Sometimes they really… don't get along. Many want to do something about it. The people that handle that sort of thing can get real busy," Ignacio stated.

He heard the warden give the amused snort, one that Zevran himself was trying to hold back. "So, you're hiring help?" she asked, laughter undercutting her words. "More importantly, you're wanting to hire someone you wanted dead?"

"No, not I. I am not fool enough to strive for such a thing," the master defended. "But you could say that. There are not many people we can turn to. So, someone who has crossed our path and lived, well… maybe they could help out? Make some coin, everyone wins."

To Zevran's surprise, Garnet seemed to be contemplating the offer. "How would it work?"

"I hand you a scroll, you read it, you learn about someone interesting. If you find out something happens to them, something unfortunate, then if we talk again, I give you money… for letting me know," Ignacio smiled. "You don't like what's on the scroll, don't do anything. Maybe they have an accident and someone else tells me all about it instead."

"If I agree, I don't want any other Crows after us," she replied, her guard shifting slight towards Zevran.

He stopped himself sucking in a surprised breath, only a few days ago he had tried to kill her himself. Now Garnet was considering doing something with what seemed like the motivation to protect him. She baffled him, and entranced him. Zevran vaguely wondered if this was what having a friend was like, never since Rinna had… _'No, this is not the time!'_ Being distracted could cost the warden her life, and Zevran found that was not something he was willing to risk.

"That, I cannot do," the master replied, sounding actually remorseful. "Another master has a contract on you, but if you help us out, _maybe_ when that master asks for help he will just get silence. Yes?"

Now, that was a turn up for the books, as the Magi liked to say. From a Crow Master, that was as good as swearing an allegiance. Not something he had expected when this conversation started. As much as Zevran was wary to work with or for, whatever this was, the Crows again, this offer had some serious merit. Not that he had any when of notifying Garnet of this... which made him wonder if he should at least teach her some of the Crow's none verbal signals, to let them communicate during times like this.

"I see," the warden replied at length. "On another topic, I don't suppose you know of any interesting scrolls, do you my friend? One can only read the same stories so many times."

He would have been annoyed with the way the master's eyes lit up at this, if Zevran himself wasn't so impressed with how quickly Garnet had picked up the play of words. Even those familiar with the Crows often took months, if not years, to master the skills.

Ignacio produced a scroll from a nearby set of draws. "I believe you will find this to be fine reading."

There was nothing untoward in the master's words, no unseen hidden meaning, but the way the man's hands brushed the warden's… that had Zevran biting back the urge to sever the man's fingers.

"You are a cautious little weasel Ignacio," he hissed, barely holding his temper. "What's your angle? If you are playing us false…"

"My darts are not for you," the master interrupted, his eyes never leaving Garnet, much to Zevran's disapproval. "I need to be real… _honest _sometimes, and I can say I haven't asked anyone to do anything. I just gave someone something to read."

"And you think that will save your hide when they nail it to a wall?" Zevran quipped, barely disguising his condemnation.

"You are already dead in my eyes _whoreson_, take care I don't learn otherwise," Ignacio sneered.

For a split second, the old taunt stung, swiftly to be replaced by complete shock as the warden closed the distance between herself and the master. There were no weapons drawn but, being a mage, Zevran doubted she needed any. Gripping the front of the man's tunic, Garnet pulled the master down, so his eyes were level with her own.

"No one insults or threatens my companions, understand?" she snarled, and fiery red aura adding to her warning.

"Of course my lady," Ignacio managed to smile, though his voice was strained. "And if that is all, luck be to you."

"And may the Maker's light shine upon you," the warden replied, sickly sweet as she smoothed out the rumble in the man's clothing.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****Well, since my DAO has decided to play silly buggers, resulting in me currently having to reinstall it, I've evidently got some time on my hands to write! This chapter is inspired by the 'The Trial of Crows' side quest. Mayapple is the common name for podophyllum peltatum, a poisonous plant that can cause diarrhoea and severe digestive upset. **


	7. Gilded Cages

**Gilded Cages **(Amell PoV)

Silently seething, Garnet made her way back to camp. Zevran, Leliana and Cadoc in tow. Really, she shouldn't be angry at all. The little mission for the Crows had gone successfully, and oddly the target really _did_ deserve to die. However, so called 'Master' Ignacio really rubbed her up the wrong way, his comment about Zevran never far from her mind whenever she dealt with him. Which was why she was in a slow boil of a bad mood right now.

Thanks to Duncan, archery practice had replaced Kundalini as her preferred method of meditation. So after politely making excuses, Garnet slipped away from the rest of the group. Knowing that dinner would not be for another hour at least, let her head into the small copse of woodland that surrounded their camp site, intent on shoot arrows into a poor, unsuspecting tree until she felt better. Naturally, Cadoc trotted dutifully at her side, though Garnet was sure she could hear another set of footsteps following a short distance behind them. However, her mabari hadn't raised any alarm, so she felt fairly certain it was merely a member of her band of misfits.

Never liking the idea of injuring a living entity unnecessarily, Garnet sought out a dead tree to use as a target, quickly finding a withering Birch. Inhaling slowly, she took up her stance, left foot forward. Exhaling, she brought her bow into position. Inhaling, her right hand notched an arrow, drawing back the bow string. Exhaling, she forced her shoulders down, drawing her shoulder blades together. Inhaling, she sighted down the arrow shaft. Exhaling, she let the missile fly. There was a satisfying _thunk_ as the arrow embedded itself into the dead wood.

"You are a marvel to watch," a heavily accented voice called to her.

Garnet was incredibly proud of herself that she didn't so much as flinch at the sudden sound of the Antivan's voice. "Me, or my archery?" she asked with a chuckle, not bothering to turn in his direction as she notched another arrow.

"Why not both?" Zevran quipped from his position to her left. "You are a rather aggressive little minx, lovely too... and it is not often one sees a mage wielding anything but a staff."

There was another _thunk_ as her second arrow embedded just shy of her original target. "Is that you asking, in a roundabout way, why I use a bow?"

"Perhaps," he replied, a note of amusement in his rich voice.

"Duncan," Garnet stated matter of factly, letting another arrow fly. _Thunk_. "The Grey Warden who recruited me. I only got to travel with him for a week between leaving the Tower and meeting up with the army in Ostagar, but he was kind enough not to see me as _just some mage_." She couldn't help the hint of venom in her voice regarding those last three words. "He taught me a few skills that he thought would come in handy, archery was the most enjoyable, I think. Though I had managed to get him to promise to teach me how to duel wield, kind of like you do, even if I only ever used it as exercise." _Thunk_. She lowered her bow and turned to face the assassin. "I never got to see him fight, but in training… watching his movements was like a dance. Observing you and Leliana, I think he was a rogue too, all I know for sure was he was a remarkable man."

"You speak of him with some affection," Zevran noted, though there was no teasing in his tone.

Garnet made her way towards to large rock he sat upon, and seated herself beside him. "Hard not to be fond of the man who rescues you," she smiled, noticing the fleeting look of confusion on his handsome face. "I was taken to the Tower when I was very young. I don't remember much about life before that, just my mother begging them not to take me away. She couldn't do much though, as she was heavily pregnant, which I suppose means I have a sibling out there somewhere."

"You do not know?" he interrupted, sounded genuinely surprised.

Trying to push aside the old hurt, Garnet shook her head, her gaze trained ahead at the tree she'd used for target practice. "Once you're in the Tower, that's it. Locked up and looking at a life where the only sunlight you see is through barred, vaulted windows and the only taste of real life you get to see is images in books. You may be breathing and your heart beating, but it's far from a life."

"Where was your father in this?" Zevran asked quietly.

A quick glance in his direction, let Garnet know he was regarding her with an unusual mix of intent, understanding and possibly even empathy. Her mouth twitched into an almost smile. "I don't know where he was when the Templar's came, possibly in hiding. From what Irving told me, he was an apostate."

"Irving?" he questioned, his brow furrowing.

Her half smile turned into a full one and she turned to look at the elf beside her. "The First Enchanter," Garnet explained. "Closest thing I had to a father figure I suppose. I was his sole apprentice whilst I was studying and he often treated me like his own, rather than a pupil. He was one of the few good things I got from being taken to the Tower, that and the love of butter mints, but that was Irving's fault anyway." There was a chuckle from Zevran, and Garnet grinned at him. "So now that you've snooped out some of my past, care to answer some questions yourself?"

Zevran gave a groan, wholly unconvincing due to his smirk. "Go ahead."

"Why did you want to leave the Crows? Or was it purely due to imminent death?" she asked, her tone light.

"Well now, I suppose that is a very fair question. Being an assassin is, after all, a living, at least as such things go. Though I suppose you won't just believe me if I say it was to come and serve the whims of a deadly sex goddess? No? Shame," he laughed. "I was simply never given the opportunity to choose another way. So, if that choice presents itself, why should I not seize upon it?"

For some reason, Garnet got the distinct impression he was skirting the question, though supposed she would gain little from pressing the issue right now. "Is there anything you would rather do instead?"

The elf shifted his position, pulling one foot onto the rock they sat upon and propping his forearm across it. "Now that you mention it, I'm not entirely certain," Zevran answered, actually seeming honest. "I was but a boy of seven when I was purchased, for three sovereigns I'm told. Which is a good price, considering I was ribs and bone, and didn't know the pommel of a dagger from the pointy end. The Crows buy all their assassins that way. Buy them young, raise them to know nothing but murder. If you do poorly in your training, you die." There was an edge to his voice as he spoke, something reminiscent with Garnet's feelings towards the Circle of Magi.

"That sounds awful," she said. The words slipping out before she could catch them. She winced inwardly. _'Idiot. Should have held your tongue!' _

Zevran gave an amused snort. "Oh, I don't know about that. The Crows that are actually good enough to survive end up enjoying some of the benefits," he explained and Garnet raised an eyebrow at him. "In Antivan, being a Crow gets you respect, it gets you wealth. It gets you women, and men... or whatever it is you might fancy. But that does mean doing what is expected of you, always, and it means you are expendable. Like your Tower, it is a cage. A gilded cage, pretty but confining."

She found herself giving the assassin a whole hearted smile. "I think I understand."

"I believe you do," he replied solemnly, before returning her smile. "As for what I will do in the future, presuming that there is one, I truly can't imagine. It might be interesting to go into business for myself, for a change."

"Zevran's Extermination Service?" Garnet joked. "No job too big or too small, unless it involves Grey Wardens."

He gasped, holding his hands to his heart in a theatrical show of pain. "You well and truly wound me," he smirked. "However that is an idea, though far away from Antivan, of course. For now, naturally, I go where you go."

"I'm happy to have you a long," she told him, the words once again slipping out before she could stop them. Yet, she fully meant the sentiment, despite their unorthodox meeting.

"And here I am, happy to be had," Zevran joked. Though Garnet caught the ripple of surprise in his eyes. "Isn't it wonderful how things work out that way?" Cadoc gave a happy sounding bark, almost as if he was agreeing, setting them both off laughing. "Come now," the elf smiled, sliding off the rock and offering her his hand. "Talking of the Crows summons them, any Antivan Fish Wife will tell you so."

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****Kundalini is meditation practise with Hindu origins, concentrating on 'breathing through the energy centres of the body'. I thought this sounded like a practice mage's might implement to control the flow/use of mana. Information on Duncan comes from the DA:O wiki, as does Irving (bar the butter mints), and the idea for Garnet's family is due to a human mage's surname being Amell. Leandra Amell is the mother of DA2's protagonist, which yes, I'm hinting that the Warden is their sister and Malcolm Hawke was Leandra's husband.**


	8. Rainstorm

**Rainstorm **(Zevran PoV)

Staring blindly into the dancing flames of the camp fire, he finished off the remnants of his bowl of chicken stew, thankful that their stop in Denerim had allowed the purchasing of fresh supplies. There was only so many times you could endure meals made from cured, jerky meat or salt fish after all. However, as he blankly set the empty wooden bowl on the ground, his thoughts wandered back to his conversation with Garnet earlier in the evening. "I'm happy to have you a long," she had said. Her words stuck in his mind, and he was no less confused now than he was then. Outside of a sexual encounter, Zevran couldn't think of a time that anyone was happy for him to be around. Well, except for… _'No!'_ He shook his head, refusing to let memories come to surface.

Soft laughter brought him out of his reviver, and his eyes fell to the comely warden giggling at some stupid thing Alistair must have said, if the Templar's goofy grin was anything to go by. In the pit of his stomach, Zevran could feel _something_ begin to swell. Though before he could begin to question what that something was, there was an unexpected roll of thunder before a sudden downpour descended, quickly dousing out the fire in a hiss of steam. There was a shriek from Leliana, a low growl from the mabari and peal of delighted laughter from Garnet, before the entire camp erupted into a blur of motion. Everyone rushing to one tent or another for shelter. To his surprise, the warden ran past him, snagging his wrist as she passed with Cadoc close at her heels.

Without ceremony, the three of them all but crashed through the opening of her tent, and landed in a twist of limbs. He would have found it pleasant, if not for the stinking, wet mabari that panted near his face. However, the beaming smile on Garnet's face, one that only he and Cadoc were privy too, somehow made up for it.

"Maker! I love the rain," she laughed as she untangled herself.

He was about to make a witty retort or other before he was rendered speechless by seeing the warden begin to unlatch the fastenings of her robes. _'Well now…'_ Zevran was intrigued, and watched eagerly as she turned her back towards him, the upper section of her robes falling away from her shoulders and revealing a tantalising expanse of pale skin. He hadn't realised what a saucy, confident minx she was.

"You needn't have waited for a rainstorm to get me to your tent my ravishing warden, you need only ask," he smirked, reaching for her hips.

"Pervert," she chuckled, swatting his hands away. Without warning, Zevran found a blanket suddenly covering his head. "I like the rain, not wet clothing," Garnet continued, a smile sounding in her voice.

Quickly, Zevran removed the blanket, only to find she had already wrapped a grey woollen one around herself and was tying it about her neck. _'Such a shame'_ he thought. Though when she was done, it actually looked like some sort of halter dress, revealing the lovely expanse of her smooth, porcelain legs.

Garnet turned, meeting his gaze. "You may want to do the same," she said, gesturing towards his own wet armour.

"Ah, once again, if you wanted me naked, you only need ask, my dear," he teased, letting his gaze wander appreciatively over her pleasing form.

"Keep trying," Garnet retorted, reaching for another blanket before turning her attention to Cadoc.

_'How many does she have?!'_ Chuckling, Zevran did as she advised, since there was little sense in remaining in soaking armour, though he was a little perturbed that she so ready turned her back to him. He was used to having women, and men, fall over themselves for a chance to see him naked. His looks were the reason the Crows had bought him, after all.

"Decent?" Garnet asked, minutes later.

She spoke just at the moment Zevran fasten the blanket around him in a style reminiscent of the toga's the royal princes liked to indulge in. Her question surprised him, more so the realisation she had turned away to give him a modicum of privacy, rather than the fact she had asked. It was a novel idea, an oddly touching one.

"That would be a matter of opinion, no?" he joked to cover his feelings."Tell me a little about Antiva," Garnet smiled, patting the pelt beside her in an invitation to sit.

Zevran readily obliged her silent request, seating himself more in her personal space than perhaps was necessary. The fact she didn't move away from him was interesting. "Oh, you wish to know about Antiva, do you?" he drawled, the heavy drumming of the rain on the tent's canvas highlighting one the very few similarities between the two countries. "The only way to be able to truly appreciate it, would be to go there."

"Then perhaps you need to paint me a picture as an incentive," she replied, a small shiver rippling through her body.

There was no thought as he wrapped an arm around the warden's bare shoulders, and surprisingly, even to himself, there was little ulterior motive. He would admit, if he were asked, that touching an alluring woman was pleasurable, but as Zevran absent-mindedly rubbed her arm, his only intention was to heat up her chilled skin. For now, at least.

"It is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden. In Antiva, it rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom. Or so the saying goes," he explained.

"And it grows assassins I believe," Garnet quipped, an impish grin on her lips.

"Every land has it's assassins," he replied. "Some are simply more open about their business than others."

"True enough," she nodded, her smile softening to something sweeter. "So, where exactly are you from?"

"I hail from the glorious Antiva City," Zevran said proudly. "Home to the royal palace. It is a glitter gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City. Do you come from some place comparable?"

"I'm not really sure," Garnet all but whispered, her gaze cutting away from him. "Like I said before, I don't really remember much before the Templars came, but I believe my family originated in Kirkwall. Though, I suppose the Tower is where I am from now, and that's certainly no glittering gem."

Zevran could have kicked himself. For the majority of his life, he'd considered the Crows a cage. However, hearing the snippet the warden had given him of her life, he found himself thankful that his cage had been a lot more figurative than Garnet's literal Tower.

"Ah, Cariño, that is too bad," he said gently, striving to keep his tone light. "If you were, surely you would spend as much time boasting about it as I do." That earned him a small chuckle from the lovely redhead beside him. "You know, it is most odd, we speak of my homeland and for all it's wine and dark haired beauties and piccolo flutes of the minstrels, I miss the leather the most."

There was a sputter from his companion. "Now this I have to hear, especially if that's some sort of euphemism."

Laughter escaped him, open and honest, for the first time since leaving Antiva. "It may as well be, but not this once, no. I mean the smell. For years I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City's leather making district, in a building where the Crows stowed their youngest recruits, packed in like crates. I grew accustom to the stench, though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day, the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me most of home, more than anything else."

"Great, an elf with a leather fetish. If my boots ever go missing, guess I won't be blaming you," Garnet smiled, reaching over to ruffle the mabari's ears. "You sound like you've been away from home for an age," she continued, moving to rest her head on Zevran's shoulder.

He frowned for a moment, confused by her actions. On many occasions, he had seen the warden lean against Alistair, even Leliana and Bodahn. The times he had witnessed her doing it, had always left him with the impression of friendship and trust, which further added to his surprise for the current situation, not that it was unwelcome or unappealing. Merely unexpected.

"Oh, not so long I know," he sighed, resisting the odd urge to rest his check atop her head. "It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly," he confessed. "Before I left, I was tempted to spend what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in a store window. Finest Antivan leather, perfect craftsmanship, ah… but I was a fool to leave them. I thought: 'Ah Zevran, you can buy them as a reward when you return for a job well done'. More the fool I, no?" Granted, that wasn't strictly true, as he hadn't really been sure he wanted or intended to return, but it was a good enough excuse to give.

"Job? You mean killing me, right?" Garnet asked quietly, though it seemed she didn't expect an answer. "Your home is still there, Zev."

It wasn't lost on him, that the warden often chose to use the shortening of his name again, the one he told her only friends used. Even though Zevran was unsure why that pleased him, a smile tugged at his lips all the same.

"True, and it's a comforting thought. One simply never knows what is to come next. How could I expect to be defeated by a beautiful Grey Warden, a woman who then spares my life?" He chuckled at just how unplanned that part had been, and Cadoc gave a short bark, almost as if he was agreeing. _'That dog's too smart for his own good'._

The warden gave an amused snort. "Beautiful, is it?"

"I say you are beautiful because it is true," he replied honestly. Truthfully, he considered it a crime that Templars would lock up such an alluring creature as she. "Should I not?" he teased.

"No, by all means, smooth talker," Garnet laughed.

Oddly, Zevran found himself feeling relieved. Why? He wasn't sure, as it wasn't something he usually cared about. Flirting was just part of his nature after all. "I am glad to hear it. Now, if it is all the same to you, I would prefer not to speak more of Antiva. It makes me wistful, and hungry for a proper meal." Instead of an answer, the warden tried to stifle a yawn as she lifted her head from his shoulder. "It is good to know you find my stories so enthralling," Zevran teased, making a move to stand.

Once again, she surprised him when she caught his wrist. "Don't be silly. It's still raining hard, and there's plenty of room. Stay." Her voice was thick with sleep as she spoke, and a clap of thunder sounded overhead, as if to clarify her point.

For a silent moment, Zevran regard the woman he had tried to kill less than a week ago, whilst she settled herself down on the pelt. _'Is she really so quick to trust me?'_ At that moment, Cadoc flung himself down beside his mistress. A low, rumbling growl emitting from the mabari who watched him with almost black eyes. It made him realise, it was more the warden's trust in the hound, rather than himself, that was allowing her to make the offer. A flash of lightening forced his hand, however wary he was feeling, and he settled down on the pelt. Cadoc's bulky form a wall between himself and Garnet.

"More blankets, over there, if need…" she mumbled, pointing behind him, before trailing off and her hand landing on the dog's head.

Zevran bit back a chuckle. He was starting to think the mage had an obsession with woollen throws that rivalled his love of leather, and a quick glance in the direction she had indicated, began to confirm his suspicions. If the soft mound as any indication, she certainly liked to indulge.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****Another play about with one of the in-game conversations. Amell's thoughts on her family home inspired by the DA:O wiki, and the chapter was mostly prompted by the thought that, for a mage who spent the majority of their life locked in a tower, everything about the real world must seem new and amazing. Even something as simple as rain. Cariño translates to honey/affection, from Spanish to English.**


	9. The Pearl

**The Pearl **(Amell PoV)

It was unusual for them to stay more than a few days in any one place, but their week in Denerim had proven fruitful. Bodahn had made several, lucrative deals out of the city's inhabitants, thanks to his fellow dwarven merchant, Gorim. Leliana had managed to put to rest part of her past, namely the betrayal of her one time mentor, and Garnet believed ex-lover. She, herself had spent the week either in the company of Morrigan browsing the shelves of Wonders of Thedas, or helping out Kylon, the Guard Sargent she had somehow befriended. Which was how she, Zevran, Leliana and Cadoc ended up in Denerim's infamous den of ill repute.

Garnet had noticed, that since their encounter with Ignacio, Zevran had elected to stay back at camp on guard duty with Sten, instead of venturing back into the city. Not that she blamed him. However, that had changed when she mentioned The Pearl. Not that she was exactly surprised, it was an establishment with a certain… reputation after all, and Garnet was sure that only men like Alistair was immune to it's allure. A little surprisingly though, it was Leliana who had accepted Senga's kind offer of choice _entertainment_ for the evening. Leaving herself and Zevran drinking the night away in one corner of the brothel's bar, with Cadoc snoring at their feet.

She couldn't help regard the elf's handsome face, her eyes tracing the lines of his tattoo. He seemed utterly relaxed, not that he ever seemed particularly tense, but there was a looseness to his posture. Garnet vaguely wondered if Ignacio's comment about Zevran being a whore's son was true, which could explain his current easiness. At that moment, he chose to turn his amber gaze away from his perusal of the bar room along with it's patrons, and back to her.

"Ah, to find the eyes of a deadly sex goddess upon me. I must be blessed, no?" he smirked.

Rolling her eyes, Garnet returned his grin. "I'm surprised you're not enjoying the fine services The Pearl has to offer," she told him, gesturing to the shapely women and lean men that mingled with the other customers. Zevran openly flirted with practically everyone, making it hard to discern what his actual taste was.

"As _enticing _as these willing bodies are, none hold so much allure as the beauty sitting opposite me," he replied, raising his tankard in what seemed like a silent toast to her.

Chuckling, Garnet shook her head, dismissing his teasing. "You must have quite the history," she found herself saying. "With women, I mean," she added, hedging her bets as she noticing his eyes dart toward a particularly buxom barmaid that walked past their table.

For a brief second, a pensive look seemed to flash across his bronzed face, but it was gone before she could be sure. Zevran's customary smile came back in full force. "This could be a sensitive topic, my dear lady, are you sure you wish to voyage there?"

Tilting her head, she regarded her companion. _'That many?'_ Garnet was never one to pry into other people's private lives, but his reply had really intrigued her. "I asked, didn't I?" she said, leaning her chin on the up turned palm of her right hand.

"As you wish," he all but sighed, before chuckling. "Let me start by saying my history is varied, indeed, it should also be noted that is has not been restricted to women. Does that offend you?" There was a slight quiver undercutting the question. It caught her more off guard than his revelation did.

"Should it?" she asked, genuinely surprised. Tower life may have consisted of the chantry avidly discouraging any sort of relationship that wasn't purely platonic, but as far as Garnet was concerned, as long as it was consensual, there was nothing wrong with anyone's preferences. _'Or lack of'_ she smiled to herself. "Though, just to be clear, in case I've drunk too much ale, you enjoy other men?"

There was an amused sounding snort from her companion. "I grew up among whores, my dear. Sex is best when done well, and truly that is my only rule. Do I prefer women? Yes… yes, I believe I do. But you must understand that a certain… open mindedness is sought by the Crows in their recruits, for very good reasons."

'_Sought or demanded?'_ she wondered, picking up on the edge in his voice towards the end of the sentence. As much as Garnet ached to asked, she wasn't going to push. "I think I understand," she smiled, before tossing back the remainder of her ale and signalling a barmaid for two more tankards.

"I cannot change me past, obviously, and I regret far more than the men and women I have been with," he told her, seeming surprisingly serious. "If that is more than you can bare, then it is good we know now, yes?"

Her brow furrowed at his words. _'What the Maker?'_ If he'd been speaking in his usual, teasing tone, Garnet would have written his words off as some strange flirting. However there seemed an undercurrent to that question she could not fathom, nor was she sure if she wanted to know. "We all have past," she found herself saying, almost cryptically. Immediately, she noticed a slight tenseness to his shoulders that only enhanced her confusion. "Though it doesn't bother me, Zev," she added with a reassuring smile.

"You're a better person than most. But enough talk of the past, it is what lies ahead, no?" he chuckled, shaking his head and seeming to relax a little. "This is a new path I am on now. It will be interesting to see where it leads, already is has been many new things."

At that moment, the barmaid arrived with their fresh drinks. Absent-mindedly, Garnet tipped the woman, before raising her drink in a toast mimicking Zevran's actions earlier. "To the road less travelled."

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****So a bit of location, dialogue and timeline jiggling from the game, but really what better place to discuss Zevran's sexual past than in a whore house? **


	10. The Road to Redcliffe

**The Road to Redcliffe **(Zevran PoV)

It had been a week since they had left behind the grimy streets of Denerim, and now they were on route to Redcliffe. Unusually, it was Morrigan and Sten who led the eclectic group. With Zevran, Leliana, Wynne, Bodahn and Sandal flanking the wagon. The two Grey Wardens, along with Cadoc, were guarding the rear. Zevran's ears twitched at the sound of the Templar's voice, and instinct told him to drop back a few steps to be able to hear the wardens' conversation.

"I'm wondering something, I'd like to know your thoughts on some of our… travelling companions. Do you mind if I ask?" Alistair said.

Zevran couldn't explain why the sound of Garnet's giggle made him want to both smile and scowl. "You just did, didn't you? Go ahead, I don't mind," she replied.

"Zevran, the elf. You can't trust him… can you?" the Templar stated, distaste evident in his voice. "Do you believe his… so called vow?"

Clenching his jaw, Zevran's hand reflexively went for the dagger strapped to his hip, he positively bristled. The oath he had made to Garnet had been truthful, the vow was to her and not the Templar. Sure... he was an assassin, but despite what others might think, he did have integrity. The mage had spared his life, he was indebted to her, and even without the threat of the Crows, Zevran was starting to think he would stand by her anyway. However, Alistair's slight at his heritage set him even more on edge. He had thought the man was simply against him for his attempt on their lives, but he couldn't help wondering if the Templar was a bigot as well.

"Oh, so he's 'the elf' now? Not 'the assassin', hmm?" Garnet asked. Her tone was teasing, though Zevran thought he heard a slight undercurrent to it.

'_Is she annoyed?'_ Oddly, the thought pleased him.

"Oh, damn it. That's not what I meant," Alistair flustered.

"I would hope not," the mage replied. "But to answer your question, yes. I do."

"Really? Why? That's a lot of trust to put in someone who tried to kill you," the Templar countered.

Unfortunately, and as loathed as Zevran was to admit it, Alistair did have a point. He knew he was being honest, he really had no plans on betraying the mage, or harming her in anyway. Though, as much as he was glad she did, Garnet had very little reason to believe that.

"Leliana might call it faith. Morrigan would probably call it gut instinct. All I can say is that I'm willing to give him a chance. Besides, it's not like he's the first person who tried to kill me and I've forgiven," she replied. "Arguably, you and Duncan gave it a good go, and trust me… the Harrowing is hardly a happy affair."

"Hmm… Well if you are, then maybe I should too," Alistair relented, though still sounding reluctant.

Before anything else was said, Morrigan called out, indicating that a likely camp site had been found for the night. As he went about his jobs to help set up, Zevran's mind worked frantically to file away all the relevant pieces of information. First and foremost, Garnet had forgiven him. Which truly spoke of how unusual a person she was. Granted, he had already begun to realise that when she first spared his life, then when she didn't appear the least little bit bothered by his previous exploits. Zevran still wasn't sure why he had admitted so much during their conversation at The Pearl, it wasn't something he had ever done outside of fellow Crows. Those lucky enough to live a life that didn't involve a whorehouse, or being a slave, looked down on who had. Especially on an elf, all except the enchanting redhead.

He shook his head, in a feeble attempt to clear his mind. Never had a woman clouded his thoughts so, and it wasn't even just in a sexual sense. Which scared him. Not that he didn't want to bed her, far from it. She was delectable, and given half a chance, he would gladly seize upon it. No, it was more than that. He actually enjoyed her company, even when the conversation contained no innuendo what-so-ever. It was a frightening realisation, especially when his mind chose to begin to wonder about what would happen once the blight was over. What would he do? What would she do? Would he still be welcome? Which was what led Zevran to reach out and catch Garnet's elbow, as she walked past his newly erected tent.

"Zev, everything okay?" she smiled. Her smile wasn't flirtatious, or guarded, or calculating. It was open and honest. The smile that seemed like she was actually glad to see him, the one that always caught him off guard.

"I've a question, if I may," he asked, hoping his tone didn't sound as hesitant as he felt.

"Of course, but mind if I put these down first?" Garnet glanced down at the armful of books she held.

"Why, a beautiful lady such as yourself should not need to carry her own things," he chuckled, feeling more in his element as he moved to take the load. "Please allow me."

"Thank you." Her smile seemed even brighter than before. "So what did you want to discuss?" she asked, leading him to her tent.

Zevran hummed thoughtfully for a moment, using the books as an excuse for his quietness, as he stacked them carefully. "Here's the thing," he said at last, settling himself on the ground. "I swore an oath to serve you, yes? And I understand the quest you're on, and this is all very fine and well… but my question pertains to what you intent to do with me, once this business is over with. Just as a point of curiosity, you understand." Now that he had asked, the question and worry seemed even more _juvenile_ than it did in his head.

"Do with you?" Garnet repeated, almost like she was speaking a thought aloud. For a moment, her brow furrowed, her beautiful face looking utterly confused as she knelt beside him. Then her smile was back, and her green eyes sparkled with mischief. "Is this before or after I ravish you in celebration."

Sexual innuendo and suggestive flirting... now this he could do. Zevran outright laughed at her cheeky look, earning himself disapproving glares from both Wynne and Alistair. "Now… there's a thought. Normally, I'm the one doing the ravishing when it comes to comely lasses. I like it," he smirked. "But you are also distracting me from the point. I said I would serve until you release me. One simply assumes that once your Grey Warden business was finished, you… would have no need for an assassin to follow you about. Am I wrong?"

"I'm sure I will always find a use, or two, for a handsome elf," she winked before she grew serious. Unexpectedly, she took hold of both his hands in hers. Out of the corner of his eye, Zevran noticed the Templar glowering at them, though he paid Alistair no heed. "Though honestly Zev," Garnet continued. "I don't hold you to any oath. You can leave whenever you like."

There was a flash of emotion in her green eyes, _'Sadness perhaps?' _Zevran wondered idly, as she gently squeezed his hands before letting go. For a heartbeat, he sat there in shock, his mind processing what she had said. However, he recovered quickly however, his trademark smirk slipping effortlessly in place to hide his surprise. "Oh? I made the oath willingly, but if that is how you see it then… all the better. Though, for the moment, it's still best I stay. Considering my standing with the Crows." Mentally, Zevran applauded himself. That sounded a very believable excuse, one even _he_ almost believed.

"Of course. It would be a shame to spare your life, only for you to get your handsome self killed a few short weeks later," Garnet teased.

"Exactly," he agreed, subtly sucking in a breath to steady the nerves he wasn't accustomed to feeling. Why the mage affected him so, he couldn't stay. They hadn't so much as kissed, yet she made him forget everything he'd ever been taught, trained, to do. She even caused him the think and, Maker forbid, possibly feel things he hadn't before. "Though, supposing I didn't desire to leave when the time came, what then?" Now, calling on a lifetime of being simply used, Zevran steeled himself for the rejection he was sure to come.

"I have no idea what's going to happen after this 'Grey Warden Business' is done, but I would always welcome your company," Garnet smiled, open and honest. "Though why wouldn't you leave, if you had the chance?"

Truthfully, Zevran found he couldn't give a solid answer, none that wouldn't crack his carefully maintained façade. Probably because she had sounded so genuine when saying she would welcome his company. He caught his shoulders sagging in relief, so instead of showing how much he was effected, Zevran turned the movement into a shrug.

"It is simply good to know what my options might be. But that is for another time, for now, we have much to do. Yes?" he replied.

"Dinner!" Leliana called from the camp fire.

"Like eat," Garnet grinned, playfully pulling him to his feet.

As she turned to join the others, Zevran took a moment to regard the mage. Really, it would not be a bad thing to stay by her side, though it would be nicer if it wasn't on a purely platonic basis as it was now. Rubbing his face, he sighed, only to be answered by a whine near his feet. Glancing down, he regarded the mabari that looked up at him with curious eyes.

"I am losing my touch, my friend." There was an all-too-happy yap from Cadoc, almost in agreement, that caused Zevran to chuckle. This was turning out to be the most unusual chapter of his life yet, and that wasn't even taking into account fighting darkspawn, or talking to a dog.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****I'm wondering if I'm the only one who thought the normally cocky Zevran seemed nervous during this dialogue in game? Or noticed that Alistair calling Zev 'the elf' could be a racial slur. Hmm… **


	11. Revelations

**Revelations** (Amell PoV)

As they crested the hill, Redcliffe castle came into view. It was a fairly impressive structure and was, unsurprisingly, built from reddish-brown stone. A small waterfall gushed down the mountainside, presumably powering the mill that could be seen in the near distance. Just as Garnet was contemplating the best course of action whilst they were in the sleepy looking village, Alistair approached her.

"Look, can we talk for a moment?" he asked, his hand on the small of her back gave the impression whatever he wanted to discuss needed privacy.

Nodding, Garnet led him off to the side, within sight of the group but out of easy hearing range. "Sure," she smiled encouragingly.

"I need to tell you something, I… um… should probably have told you earlier," Alistair bumbled.

Holding back a sigh, Garnet rubbed the bridge of her nose. The Templar stumbling over his words was usually a bad sign. "I'm not going to like this, am I?" she asked, trying to keep her smile in place, though tactfully turning her back to the rest of her companions.

"I don't know, I doubt it. I've never liked it, that's for sure," Alistair admitted, mimicking her stance. "I told you before how Arl Eamon raised me, right? And that my mother was a serving girl at the castle when he took me in? The reason he did that was because… well, because my father was King Maric. Which made Cailan my… half-brother, I suppose."

Closing her eyes, Garnet let the information sink in. "So… you're not only a bastard, but a royal one?" she quipped, though why she let the first thing she thought out of her mouth, Garnet wasn't sure. _'Must be spending too much time with Zevran!'_ she mused. Really, it didn't bother her. Sure, it would have been nice to have been told sooner, but it didn't change anything. He was still sweet, silly Alistair as far as she was concerned.

Her fellow Grey Warden snorted, in a very princely way, obviously. "Ha! I guess it does at that. I should use that line more often." He shuffled from foot to foot, the action screaming of how uncomfortable he actually was. "I would have told you, but it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan's rule, so they kept me secret. I've never talked about it to anyone. Everyone who knew either resented me for it, or they coddled me. Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it." Sighing wearily, he rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't want you to know as long as possible, I'm sorry."

"You know... being a mage, you being a Templar was a fairly sure fire way to make me not like you. If I can look past that, a little royalness is hardly an issue," Garnet smiled, leaning her weight against his arm. Not that inches thick armour made it comfortable, but it was a lot let risky than a hug.

"Ah, good. I'm glad. It's not like I got special treatment for it anyhow." Alistair stated. "At any rate, that's it. That's what I had to tell you. I just thought you should know about it."

Looking up at his greater height, Garnet adopted a slight faux scowl. Standing with her arms folded under her bust as she did. "Are you sure you're not hiding anything else?"

"Apart from my unholy love of fine cheese and a minor obsession with my hair? No that's it," he grinned.

"I said _hiding_," she chuckled, shaking her head as she turned back to the rest of the group. "Right, let's make our way down the hill. Bodahn, you might want to secure the wagon near the windmill. The path looks too steep to make it down. Zevran, Morrigan, you're with me and Alistair. The four of us will head for the castle, the rest of you take a look around the town. Trade for supplies, look to see if there's anywhere we can bed down for the night."

With agreements made, they set off towards the stone bridge that crossed the rapidly flowing water. Only to be halted by a would-be archer, dressed in a faded blue tunic. "Ah, I thought I saw travellers coming down the road, though I scarcely believed it. Have you come to help us?"

"What do you mean? Is there a problem?" Garnet asked without hesitation.

"So you… don't know? Has nobody out there heard?" the man asked, sounding genuinely shocked.

"There's news Arl Eamon is sick, if that's what you mean?" Alistair replied.

"He could be dead, for all we know," the man lamented. "Nobody has heard from the castle in days. We're under attack. Monsters come out of the castle, every night, and attack us until dawn. Everyone's been fighting… and dying."

"We'll that's just typical, isn't it," Zevran muttered.

"Apparently, everybody seems to agree that a blight is the perfect time to start killing each other," Morrigan agreed, her voice dripping in sarcasm. "Marvellous, really."

Garnet flashed the pair of them a sly smile, biting back her laughter for Alistair's sake. His humour, though dry, was not as dark as theirs. However, she already knew they would be helping, talking with the archer was only delaying the inevitable. "Without the Arl, who is in charge then?" she asked.

"Bann Teagan. I should take you too him, if you will follow me?" the archer motioned to lead the way, and a nod from Garnet had the others following.

"Bann Teagan is Arl Eamon's brother," Alistair enlightened them, as they made their way down the steep and winding path.

"Brother or no, have we not learnt our lesson from agreeing to help strangers we meet in our path?" Morrigan drawled.

"And why is that? O magical temptress," Zevran enquired, in his usual manner, causing both Garnet and the witch to roll their eyes.

"Because last time we did, a roguishly good looking assassin tried to kill us," Garnet laughed, winking over her shoulder at him.

"Do you have to encourage him?" Alistair grumbled, practically stomping down the dirt path.

"Ah, my fine strapping fellow, that would imply that your lovely, fellow Grey Warden would need to do anything to encourage my worship of her," Zevran chuckled. "Or do you not see that she is a goddess made flesh. Very fine flesh at that."

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Morrigan whispered in her ear.

Trying to reign in her grin, and failing miserably, Garnet regarded the other woman. "Perhaps," she admitted.

The witch gave her an approving look. "For a Circle mage, you are a very wicked woman, Amell."

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****So, not a strictly Zevran/Amell chapter, but I think there may be a few chapters involving Redcliffe stemming from ideas I've had whilst playing the game again, and this was the first of them!**


	12. Childhood Lost

**Childhood Lost **(Zevran PoV)

Whilst the lovelier of the two Grey Wardens discussed the town's situation with Bann Teagan, an averagely attractive and dull sounding man as far as he was concerned, Zevran took the chance to subtly survey the chantry. It was mostly an unremarkable stone building, though the single entrance afforded it a tactical edge to keeping the _evil_, whatever that meant around these parts, out. Yet it could also serve to make the chantry a mausoleum, should the building be overrun. Another glance around the room informed him that Alistair had moved away to speak to a knight, and the Morrigan seemed engrossed in an old tomb. However, Garnet's voice brought him back to the conversation in front of him, fairly quickly.

"Flatterer," she all but giggled, causing Zevran's jaw to clench. Why? He was not sure.

"If I may be so bold, what of you my lady? Are you married?" the Bann asked, causing Zevran's eyes to narrow in suspicion.

"No, I am not," Garnet replied, a coy undertone in her voice.

"I find that hard to believe. Surely that is a crime somewhere. But I am too bold, this is hardly the time for such banter," Teagan stated, something Zevran agreed with. "Please, accept my apology."

"What the Maker for? I'm not offended," the warden said, a smile evident in her voice.

"You are too kind, my lady. Amongst many other things," the Bann replied, his voice lowering to an almost husky tone.

Zevran, though impressed and intrigued with the warden's flirty manner, had heard enough. If anyone was to charm the mage, it would be him. "Ah, my dear Grey Warden, is it not time to see to the town's defences?" he enquired, moving so close to her side that their bodies were almost touching. Something Zevran was sure the Bann would noticed immediately.

Garnet gave him an easy smile, one that could be called affectionate, if not for the teasing glint in her eyes. "You are right, Zev," she agreed amicably, before turning her attention back to Teagan. "We will see what we can do, and report back to you before nightfall."

With that decided, the pair headed for the exit. Alistair and Morrigan quickly following them without question. Though, before they even reached the heavy oak doors, a snivelling young woman caught Garnet's attention. Zevran watched, as the mage lay a hand gently on the woman's shoulder.

"Are you alright? Do you need anything?" The warden's voice was soft, almost tender.

When the crier looked up, Zevran was astonished with how young she was. Barely a teen, possibly about the age he had been when he been forced to make his first kill. It was a sobering thought.

"Those _things_ dragged my mother away," the girl snivelled. "I don't know what happened to her, but I hear her screaming, all the time. Everywhere. And now my brother, Bevin, he ran off. I… I don't know where he is. I'm so scared they got him too." A sob racked the girl's body.

It was a sad tale, but what could be done? Nothing, as far as Zevran could see. It seemed the mage had other ideas however, for she quickly offered to look for the boy. "Is she always like this?" he muttered to Morrigan, already suspecting the answer.

"Alas, Amell is sorely afflicted by the driving need to be nice," the witch scoffed. "And I will have no part of it. Time would be better spent scouting the area."

"Good idea," Garnet smiled, seemingly finished comforting the girl. "Morrigan, grab Leliana and do a sweep of the town. Alistair, go speak with the mayor. Zevran and I will look for the boy, then meet you at the windmill to talk with Ser Perth."

Despite believing that looking for the child was pointless, he wasn't about to turn down time alone with the mage. It was yet another chance to charm her, after all, if nothing more. Without further ado, they made their way towards the docks, and entered a house that presumably belonged to the young woman and her brother. On first glance, the building appeared empty. Though a heartbeat of silence let his sensitive ears pick up a small sound coming from the room adjacent to the one they stood in. Keeping quiet, Zevran indicated where they should head and a moment later, the pair were stood in front of a large armoire. Whimpering could be heard from inside.

"Hello? Who's there?" Garnet called in a soft voice.

"Go away. This isn't your home. This is my home. My home, you hear me," came the muffled response. It was evident the voice was that of a young boy.

"Bevin? Is that you?" the warden queried, her voice turning even kinder.

Subconsciously Zevran winced at the tone. It was almost painful to hear, still reminding him of how he used to watch other children and their mothers during the weekend markets back in Antiva. Even after all these years, that sort of tone never failed to reminded him of what he had never had.

"How… how do you know my name?" the voice in the armoire asked.

"I'm Kaitlyn's friend. I was speaking to your sister in the chantry," Garnet explained patiently.

The way the warden was behaving, was a stark contrast to what Zevran had experienced as a young boy. He remember once hiding as this Bevin did, scared by some raucous revellers in the whorehouse, only to have the doors of the armoire thrown open and to be forcibly dragged out by one of the whores. He had been beaten so badly, his arm was broken.

"Did she tell you to take me back to the chantry? Don't make me go back there," the boy pleaded, still securely in his hiding spot. "I hate that place. I hate it."

"Why do you hate it?" Garnet asked, pulling up a nearby stood and sitting down.

Zevran wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or simply stare. The warden was seemingly quite prepared to have a full conversation with a child _through_ the closed door of an armoire. He couldn't believe the patience she was showing. Unable to think of anything else to do, Zevran followed her lead, and perched on the edge of the nearby bed. Deciding he was simply going to use this as an exercise to study the mage.

"Everybody's is scared, but they tell me I shouldn't be scared. And they tell me… I shouldn't be sad that mother died," the boy broke off, sounding like he was trying not to cry.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Zevran's heart went out to the child. He well remember the feeling of being so confused and helpless. He couldn't help but wonder how his life might have turned out, if he had encountered someone as patient as Garnet was, when he had been a child.

"I don't want to be sad. I'm brave, I'm going to be a hero. I'm going to fight them off, I will," Bevin continued.

"From in there?" Zevran scoffed. He had meant to speak in a whisper, but his voice came louder than he intended. He watched as Garnet's mouth twitched into a smile, even though she shook her head at him.

"No… no," the boy relented, causing the mage to stand. "I just heard you coming and... I guess that's not very brave of me, is it?"

With that, a blonde haired boy wearing a white shirt and a brown leather jerkin emerged from the armoire. If it hadn't been for the rounded ears, Zevran would had sworn he was looking at a, less grubby and less bruised, version of his younger self. It was a disconcerting feeling.

"Alright, I came out. You won't hurt me, will you?" Bevin asked, trembling slightly.

Without hesitation, Garnet dropped down to her knees so that her face was level with the boy's. "Of course not," she soothed. "And you are brave, don't let anyone tell you different."

Zevran watched, as the warden held out a hand to the boy, almost as if she was approaching a wounded animal. After a moment's hesitation, Bevin flung his arms around Garnet's neck, nearly knocking her of balance. It wasn't a surprise that the boy was seeking comfort in her. After all, the warden was pretty and kind, the type of person that was always the 'good-guy' in stories. What did surprise Zevran, was how readily Garnet hugged the child back. As Bevin began to sob, she simply held him, rocking back and forth, humming a comforting tune as she did. The tenderness caused Zevran to look away, it was something he had long for as a child. Affection. Someone to be there for him, to chase the proverbial monsters away. Instead, his childhood was a life of being ignored, or beaten, then sold to the Crows like a commodity of low value. Which, reluctantly, Zevran supposed he was.

"I'll go back to the chantry, if you want?" Bevin sniffled.

"That would be a very good idea, and Kaitlyn will be happy to see you," Garnet agreed, moving to stand.

When the boy went to hold her hand, the mage didn't push him away, or give him a clip around the ear. She accepted it, like it was the most natural thing in Thedas to do. Even smiling down at the boy, when his other hand clung to her robes. As the three of them headed back to the chantry, Zevran purposefully walked a few paces behind. Occasionally, his keen hearing would pick up an odd snippet of a story Bevin was telling Garnet, something about his Grandfather being a dragon hunter and a sword. Mostly, he was simply lost in thought as he regarded the pair. An unusual ache had settled in his chest, one that Zevran couldn't decipher.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****So, just an idea I had whilst playing through Origins. Trying to reveal some of Zevran's past whilst the game is progressing as we know it does. **


	13. A Face from the Past

**A Face From the Past **(Amell PoV)

"Hello? Is there someone out there?"

The lone voice that called out from the gloom twisted Garnet's stomach into knots. '_It can't been!'_ she thought, almost frantically. It had been many months since she had last heard it, and Redcliffe's dungeon was the last place she suspected to hear it again.

"Please, identify yourself."

'_It has to be'_ she realised, both fraught and glum. Without thinking, and leaving her companions behind, Garnet set off at a run. Only the dim, flickering torches lit her path, as she headed in the direction of the voice. Nimbly she avoided the puddles of Maker-knows-what, along with several scurrying, squeaking rats. Finally halting at the last cell, where her stomach dropped.

"By all that is holy, it's you," the owner of the voice stated, hauling himself to his feet aided by the heavy metal bars that caged him.

"Jowan?" Garnet croaked past the lump in her throat. Her old friend looked terrible, thin and haggard. His robes torn and face bruised. Without thinking, Garnet reached through the bars, catching his hand and casting the most powerful healing spell she could muster.

"I can't believe it," Jowan shook his head, pulling away from her touch once the pale green light of her magic had faded. "And here I thought things couldn't get any worse. Brilliant. Go on, have a go at me, if that's what you want. Gloat away."

"I'd never do that," she gasped, her eyes growing wide with shock. "It pains me to see you like this."

"Oh, thank you for your tired platitudes," the other mage hissed. "Whatever would I do without your sympathetic words to carry me through the long, cold nights?"

"I'm sorry Jowan, truly I am," Garnet apologised. There wasn't a day she didn't mull over what had happened. Futilely wondering if she had done the right thing by going to Irving, if there could have been a way to help Jowan, before he had gotten himself in the situation he had.

"You think that makes it better?! You expect this to be easy, like your whole life has been easy?! Apologise and suddenly we're friends again?!" he shouted.

'_Easy?!' _The word tumbled in her head. How had her life been easy? Sure, she took to her studies easily, mostly out of need to distract herself from the heartache from being removed from her parents. She had suffered the oppressive knowledge that her life would be spent locked up in the Tower's grey walls, no longer able feel the sun or wind on her skin. Adapting to the situation did not mean she had found it easy, it meant she survived. A small ball of anger began to stir itself in the pit of Garnet's stomach.

"I've been running since I last saw you. I've slept in ditches, rotten logs, in the rain. I've gone hungry for weeks. I was lost, utterly alone. You expect me to just forget this happened?" he demanded, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

So distracted was she, that Garnet hadn't realised the others had joined her. It was only when a bronzed arm flashed past her face, quickly grasping Jowan by the front of his robes and bodily dragging him to the bars, did Garnet realise Zevran was by her side.

"I would suggest, my friend, you show the Grey Warden more respect," he all but growled.

As Jowan gaped, eyes wide with shock, Garnet lay a hand on the elf's outstretched arm. "Zev, it's alright," she assured, squeezing his forearm, though unable to meet his questioning gaze.

Zevran's free hand came up, tilting her chin so she was forced to look him in the eyes. "Are you sure, Cariño?" he asked.

His voice held an unexpected softness to it, and Garnet found herself simply nodding in response, not daring her voice to speak. After giving Jowan an impressive glare, Zevran relented and released his hold on the mage. _'Cariño?'_ Garnet wondered briefly. She was sure that he had called her that once before, though she wasn't sure. However, this wasn't the time for pondering, and Garnet quickly turned her attention back to Jowan.

"You're a blood mage. Only you are to blame for the path you have followed," she stated, feeling some more of her guilt being replaced by anger. "Though if you would like to play this game, do you know how it feels to have hundreds of you brethren massacred by darkspawn? How it feels to kill an abomination and wonder if that was someone you went to class with, or a child you once mentored. And whilst we are on the subject, was it Uldred who introduced you to blood magic?"

"How did you… no," Jowan stopped himself. "Before I say anything else, I need to ask you a question." When he paused and sighed, some of Garnet's anger dissipated and she nodded, already suspecting what he would ask. "You can do whatever you feel you need to afterwards, but I need to know. What became of Lily? They didn't hurt her, did they? The thought that she might have paid for my crime…" He leant his forearms against the bars, and hung his head, staring resolutely at the floor between his feet.

"They sent her away, I don't know where," Garnet admitted quietly.

"What have I done?" he muttered before lifting his head to meet her gaze. "So, here we are again, just the two of us. So what happens now?"

Despite the fact that there were three other people in the dank chamber, Garnet understood what he meant. What he was asking. It had always been the same, ever since the day she had been brought to the Tower. They had become a strange sort of family, eventually joined by Petra a few years later. It was why she had agonized between helping him and going to Irving. Either way she had know she'd be betraying one of them. The burden of that still had not dissipated.

"First, I need to know if you are responsible for what's happened here," Garnet stated, her voice low and quiet.

"I know it looks suspicious, but I am not responsible for the creatures and the killings in the castle, you have to believe me," Jowan begged. "I was already imprisoned when all that began. Not that the Arlessa cared, she had me… tortured, to get me to confess what I had not done. When that didn't work, they left me to rot."

"I'm going to guess you are the one who poisoned the Arl... I want to know why." Despite how her heart went out to her old friend, Garnet's voice remained even and firm. Something she was proud of.

"I was instructed to do it by Teryn Loghain," Jowan explained. "I was told Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden, and that if I dealt with him, Loghain would settle matters with the Circle. All I wanted was to be able to return, but he abandoned me here, didn't he?"

"And a lot more besides," Garnet sighed, before glancing at Zevran, who hadn't moved an inch from her side. "Do you think you can pick the lock?"

"As you wish, mi querida," the elf replied, flashing her a quick smile as he set about opening the door.

"Hey, hey. He's a blood mage, you can't just set one free," Alistair argued, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"Is that Alistair talking, or the Templar?" Morrigan sneered.

With more venom than she intended, Garnet rounded on her fellow warden. "Blood mage or no, he's my brother, I won't fail him again," she hissed, pushing his hand away.

Not waiting for a response, she turned back to the cell. She didn't care if they didn't understand. Though she suspected Morrigan would, for all her brusqueness, the witch wasn't heartless. And the solemn, knowing look Zevran gave her, led Garnet to believe the assassin might have an idea as well.

"Thank you my friend," Jowan said. "I'm sorry I lashed out at you before, I wanted to blame someone for what's happened to me, but… I know you had your reasons."

The next ten minutes were spent with Garnet, Morrigan and Jowan debating possible courses of action, all stemming from Jowan's information regarding the Arl's son being a mage. For their part, the other two remained silent. Alistair off to the side brooding, no doubt, and Zevran meticulously working away on the lock. Until there was a very welcome clink, and the door swung open on ominously creaky hinges. It was quickly decided that Jowan would search the nearby cellars for any survivors, whilst Garnet and her companions resumed their intended course to the heart of the castle. Alistair refused to look at her as he stomped ahead, though Morrigan offered her a rare smile.

"That was a fine choice," the witch stated, slipping past her and up the stairs. Jowan followed behind, leaving Garnet and Zevran alone in the dim passage.

The elf halted her by barring the archway with his toned arm. "Are you alright, Cariño?" he asked, his accented voice surprisingly serious.

"I… will be," she gave a half smile, feeling there was little point lying. "Thank you." Without thinking, she kissed his cheek lightly, just as she would have done to any of her friends back in the Tower.

For a moment, the elf looked surprised. Though he quickly recovered, cupping her face gently with his hands. "Me temo que usted cuida demasiado, se va a hacer daño," Zevran said in a low whisper, before he kissed her.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****Another, not strictly Amell/Zevran, but something I wanted to touch on, because seriously, anyone else amazed at how easily it was to open Jowan's cell door, without any visible key? Also, with him wanting to help, surely Jowan could search for (and find) Owen's daughter. Spanish translations: Cariño means honey (or affection), used as a term of endearment. Mi querida means my dear/my darling. 'Me temo que usted cuida demasiado, se va a hacer daño' roughly translates to 'I fear you care too much, it will hurt you'.**


	14. Trouble in the Tower

**Trouble in the Tower **(Zevran PoV)

How he kept ending up in these sorts of situation, Zevran wasn't sure, but it didn't much matter. Not when there was an angry Templar's blade trapped between his two daggers, and the annoying trickle of blood that was steadily running into his glove. As he glared into the brown eyes of his opponent, Zevran let part of his mind analyse the events leading up to this situation. Back in Redcliffe dungeons, he'd kissed Garnet. Granted, not the ideal romantic setting he'd have liked, but he just couldn't help himself. And it had only been a chaste kiss, nothing steamy or erotic as he would have preferred, but Zevran was certain that was a good starting point for the chain of events.

They had then followed Alistair and Morrigan into the castle proper, whilst Garnet's old friend Jowan had gone in search for survivors. So far, so good, until they came to the Main Hall. Only to find that the evil that had inflicted itself upon the town, stemmed from the Arl's young son, who has been possessed by a demon. Not so good. Then Jowan had reappeared, suggesting a way to rid the boy of the demon. However, it was a blood ritual, naturally. Though it _was_ the fastest solution, Alistair had baulked against the idea, and persuaded his fellow Grey Warden to seek an alternative, which Garnet readily agreed to do. Which was far from surprising.

What had been surprising however, was when she had ordered the majority of their eclectic group to remain at Redcliffe castle, only asking himself to accompany her and Cadoc to the Circle Tower. Zevran had seen how the Templar's eyes had narrowed when she only chose to take a singular tent, though he'd paid Alistair little heed. The other warden had been an ass on more than one occasion so far towards himself, and one chaste kiss did not a seduction make. Zevran had no illusion that travelling so lightly was out of logic, rather than intended debauchery by the mage, however much he would have liked that to be the case.

It had taken them a little over a day to travel the winding path from Redcliffe to the Tower, mostly thanks to two fine mares that Bann Teagan had leant them. The crossing of Lake Calenhad had been thankfully uneventful. Though Zevran would never admit just how worried the thought of magical beasts inhabiting the water had made him, regardless of Garnet's assurances that none existed. Upon arriving at the Tower, everything had seemed fine. A grey bearded man called Irving, had greeted the warden with a wide smile and a warm hug. Leading Zevran to understand what Garnet had meant when she said the First Enchanter treated her as his own. Irving had then readily agreed to help with the ritual to save the Arl's son. So whilst the First Enchanter went about his business, packing whatever mage's had to pack, Garnet had offered to show him around her old home. Zevran had happily agreed, imagining it may give some insight into the woman he had pledged himself too, and it had.

He had watched how the children had flocked to her when they had entered the Apprentice Quarters. The friendly hug she had shared with a fellow redheaded mage called Petra, and how she'd shown an elven mage, named Eadric, how to cast a spell that created what Garnet called a 'werelight'. They had then made their way to the Library, and even Zevran had to admit it was an impressive room. He could well imagine a young Garnet spending her free hours in the dimly lit space, pouring herself over heavy tomes, much like she enjoyed doing during quiet nights in camp. He had been slightly surprised when she had made what appeared to be a beeline for a specific book shelf, and had quickly produced a large book, bound in red leather and glided with gold leaf. As Zevran couldn't read ancient Tevinter, the pair had huddled under the flickering light of a candelabra, with Garnet reading to him in a hushed tone.

That's when it had happened.

They had both looked up as someone shouted her name, only to see a Templar rushing towards them, his sword draw. If Zevran was to explain what had happened next, he would have joked about how he was merely protecting his interests, since the Grey Warden was his best bet of staying out of the Crows' clutches. Also, very few things existed to rival the passion of 'rescue sex'. However, the truth of the matter was that he had moved on instinct. Stepping in front of Garnet, and blocking the man's path to the mage, had been automatic... as much as that worried him.

It had been sloppy to allow the long sword's blade to slice over his forearm, but it hadn't cut too deep, and Zevran doubted that the Templar's employed the use of poisons. So permanent damage was very unlikely, even before he factored in the healing spell he could already feel weaving around his body thanks to Garnet. His keen hearing picked up the sound of heavy mailed boots running, along with the distinct swishing of long robes brushing the smooth, stone floor at a hurried pace.

"Amell, tell your associate to stand down," bellowed a voice. One Zevran could only guess came from a man in authority.

"Not until you get your Templar under control, Knight-Commander," Garnet spat, the venom so clear, it even surprised Zevran.

"Greagoir, I would suggest you do as the _Grey Warden_ asks," Irving stated calmly, evident emphasis being placed on Garnet's title.

"Of course, First Enchanter," the Templar replied. "Cullen, stand down. That is an order."

As his foe followed the command, Zevran's mind jumped at the idea of sinking his left blade into the man's unprotected neck. It was a tempting prospect, one that assured this Templar wouldn't threaten Garnet again. However, as the warden gently squeezed his shoulder, Zevran simply settled on smirking. With exaggerated show, he sheathed his daggers, keeping his hands on their pommels.

"I do not know what your issue is _friend_, but rest assured, if you move against the warden again, I will cut you down," he promised and Cadoc growled as if adding his own threat.

"Do not speak to me, you filthy elf," Cullen hissed, murder in his crazed eyes. "You weren't here, you don't…"

"How dare you?!" Garnet grit out through obviously clenched teeth, her voice low and dangerous. A fiery red aura surrounded her, and Zevran could feel a prickle of heat as she moved past him to face the Templar. "You have no right to speak to my friend like that, or any other elf for that matter."

Friend. The word resonated through him. Was it friendship that had caused him to block the attack? Zevran couldn't say. It was very new notion for him.

"Let me handle it, warden," the Knight-Commander requested, seeming hesitant.

With a nod, Garnet turned her back on the two Templars, the aura fading, and her verdant eyes finding Zevran's. "Thank you," she smiled, her hand unexpectedly cupping his cheek, just as Greagoir was demanding an explanation.

"That!" Cullen shouted. "Don't you see? First they tortured me with visions of her, the object of my ill-advised infatuation, and now she mocks me, evil witch. She let them live and deserves to die."

Zevran was seriously beginning to suspect that the young Templar was quite possibly mad. At the outburst, Garnet gasped, her eyes widening. As her soft hand dropped from his cheek, Zevran was left to mourn the loss of her touch, whilst she whirled back around.

"Cullen, what happened to you was abhorrent, no one denies that, but Uldred was to blame. And he is dead, I killed him. Irving was not possessed, and he is not a blood mage, something your Knight-Commander will vouch for?" Greagoir nodded his agreement before the warden continued. "He did nothing that would warrant his death, nor did the other two mages I rescued, so they deserved to live. And I have done nothing to mock you, we were reading when you attacked."

"A likely story," Cullen scoffed. "No doubt you were trying to ensnare him with some dark magic."

Unable to hold it back, Zevran outright laughed at the accusations. "Oh, my dear misguided Templar, I can quite assure you, the Grey Warden needs no arcane ritual to enchant me. She already has."

"You see!" the Templar demanded, making a move to grab Garnet, only to be halted by Zevran's dagger at his neck.

"Yes, you see she managed it quite easily and very quickly," he continued, conversationally. As he fully moved between the pair, a smirk was still on his lips, but a dangerous look had entered his eyes. "The beautiful woman behind me let me live, after I tried to kill her. She even offered protection from those who had sent me, and I vowed to serve her. Now, this wicked woman is so deranged, she released me from my oath, our quest barely begun, telling me she supports whatever I decide. So what is one to do? Elf, human or otherwise. I am her man, without reservation."

By the time Zevran had finished speaking, Greagoir had a wide eyed look, the First Enchanter was looking at Garnet intently, and the Templar had turned an interesting shade of red. One that Alistair would have been proud of. The warden, for her part, merely sighed. It was a tired, weary sound. Her warm breath skitted past his sensitive ear, making it twitch, as she moved to stand beside him.

"Zev," she admonished quietly, shaking her head. Though there was a faint, affectionate smile on pulling at her full lips.

"If I could be so bold, I am interested in what book you two were reading that caused our friend so much anguish," Irving stated.

Zevran watched on, his smirk morphing into a genuine smile, as Garnet retrieved the book from the floor where it had fallen in the commotion. She gave it a careful wipe, before handing it to the old mage. Zevran couldn't help but notice as the warden's smile tugged into something more impish, and she raised an eyebrow. It seemed she was suddenly trying not to laugh.

The First Enchanter hummed knowingly, stroking his grey beard. "Ah, the Tome of Physical Technique. I suppose this could be a racy read... if one tried hard enough."

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****Surely, I'm not the only one that was mildly surprised that Cullen went from bumbling/nervous/ kind of sweet, to practically crazy/wanting to kill all mages AND be allowed to stay in the Tower. That's sort of what this chapter stemmed from.  
Eadric is the elf mage who states "You're in my light" when you are exploring the Tower during 'A Mage of the Circle'. Since the Tome of P.T. only grants attributes to warriors &amp; rogues, I thought it would be a good book to use for some terrible innuendo.**


	15. Betime Poetry

**Bedtime Poetry **(Amell PoV)

The return trip to Redcliffe was taking longer than she would have liked, and with the two mares they had ridden to the Tower now being used as a pack horses, it was endless hours of trudging through the dusty mountain roads. As dusk had approached, they had made camp in a small clearing, and Garnet had dutifully given the sole tent to First Enchanter Irving. After all, it wasn't like she was unaccustomed to sleeping under the stars on a bedroll, unlike her fellow mages. She had the week after fleeing Ostagar to thank for that. However, the altercation with Cullen had left her shaken, and the Templars who had accompanied the mages were making her nervous. Something she hadn't felt before in their presences. So she was thankful when Zevran had positioned his bedroll adjoining hers, regardless of the disapproving looks everyone but Irving gave them.

As she lay on her side, starring at the dancing flames of the camp fire over Cadoc's back, Garnet couldn't help but smile as she heard Zevran settle down behind her, his bronzed arm slipping around her waist. It was a little unexpected, as they had never been that close, not even the night they had shared a tent during a downpour. However, it was perfectly pleasant, and Garnet found herself feeling utterly safe in his arms. Which was a slightly surprising, giving how they had met.

The sound of tutting and scandalised whispering filled the camp site for a few moments, but she didn't care. _'Let them think what they like!'_ Nothing had happened between them, except one brief but enjoyable kiss, and nothing would happen. Well... not until there was some guaranteed privacy at any rate.

"I have a question for you," Zevran stated in a low murmur, near her ear. His gorgeous accent threatening to send a shiver down her spine.

"Oh?" Garnet shuffled until she could feel the warmth of his chest against her back.

"How well versed are you in poetry? Antivan poetry specifically," he asked, a smile evident in his voice.

"I know a good poem when I hear it," Garnet replied hedging her bets. The assassin's playful tone usually heralded trouble.

His breath tickled her ear as he chuckled, earning them a scowl from the nearby Templar who was on guard duty. "Then you won't be hearing it now. It was recited to me, as I recall, by a rather wealthy target of mine," Zevran explained, pulling her closer to him, almost like he was trying to prevent an escape attempt.

"I'm not about to run off," she teased, entwining her fingers with his hand that rested on her stomach.

"You have not heard this poem," he warned, playfully. "Let me see, hmm… The symphony I see in thee, it whispers songs to me. Songs of hot breath upon my neck, songs of soft sighs by my head. Songs of nails upon my back, songs of thee come to my bed."

Her whole body shook with the effort not to burst out laughing. "Oh Maker!" she gasped, her eyes beginning to water. "Sex poetry? _Bad _sex poetry."

"Oh I know, I know," he agreed, his mouth pressed against her shoulder, evidently trying to control his own laughter. "I couldn't believe she actually thought this would convince me to spare her. I had sex with her anyway, but that goes without saying. She still had to die. The poem was amusing at the time however, and thus I've always remembered it."

Garnet couldn't help but roll her eyes. It didn't surprise her one bit he had slept with his target first. "So, you thought you'd try to seduce me with second-hand bad poetry?" she teased, glancing back at him.

"Mmm, now that is a thought, isn't it?" he whispered, leaning over her. His amber eyes darkening slightly. "Would it work?"

"If you lost the poetry part, it might," Garnet grinned, turning her head so there lips were almost touching.

"I'll have to bare that in mind." For a moment, it seemed Zevran was about to move to kiss her again, until there was a disgruntled cough from the Templar, causing them both to bite back laughter. "Personally, my preferred methods of seduction are a bit more… tactile." He punctuated his sentence by running the hand that had been resting on her stomach, down her side. "Here, I just thought you might be cheered up by some naughty poetry. You simply look so, unhappy. Such an unflattering expression for such a lovely face."

Despite his jovial, flirty tone, Garnet had caught the brief flash of what seemed like genuine concern in his amber eyes. "You think I'm lovely, do you?" she deflected, moving to lay on her back so she could look at her companion without straining her neck.

"Who wouldn't? You're the type of woman who stokes the lust in men, and other women alike. Surely you know this, and are playing with me," Zevran chuckled, leaning on an elbow, his other arm draped loosely across her abdomen. "Me, I tend to make the best of whatever situation I find myself in. Stealing what moments I can." Even with the teasing note to his voice, there was a tender look in his eyes. One Garnet was sure he didn't even realise he was letting slip through his mask. "It has served me well most days, you might learn to do the same."

Looking up into his handsome face, Garnet couldn't deny she found Zevran _very_ attractive. And despite him having tried to kill her, she enjoyed his company, perhaps more than she should. Though, despite these two factors, it was the rare cracks in his teasing bravado that really caught her attention. On impulse, Garnet reach for his face, her fingertips lightly tracing the sweeping tattoo on his left cheek.

"That would all depend if I had someone worth indulging in," she smiled in reply, trying to keep the tone light. There was already too much heaviness in both their lives.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****That infamous poem had to make an appearance somewhere, and after poor Amell's experience in the previous chapter, this seemed like as good a time as any.**


	16. A Friendly Proposition

**A Friendly Proposition** (Zevran PoV)

Silently, he slipped into the ornate room that had been designated as the warden's, and concealed himself in one of the many shadows cast by the dim light. Garnet's plan to save to Arl's son had been successful, though it had placed her in considerable risk. Risk that Zevran did not think she should be making. She had returned from the Fade triumphant, and yet the Arl remained deathly ill. He had seen the defeated sag to the warden's shoulders, and the fading of the mischievous light that usually danced in her eyes. Despite this, Zevran had heard the warden agree to seek out Andraste's Ashes, a mere myth as far he was concerned, and he suspected Garnet felt the same.

She had remained almost silent throughout the evening meal the group had shared with Bann Teagan and some of the guards, something so out of character even Morrigan had been throwing the warden concerned glances. When Garnet had announced she was retiring early, far earlier than Zevran had ever witnessed her do, his idea had formed. At one time, the thought of bedding the attractive redhead was merely from a point of enjoyment, and possibly conquest. However, he had grown to actually enjoy her company, perhaps even care for her, and he wanted to do something that would ease her burden. Even if only for a night. It was uncomfortable for Zevran to admit, even to himself, that he wasn't actually sure what a friend should do in this sort of situation. However, he did know where his talents lay.

This was how he found himself in Garnet's room, silently watching as she entered, dressed in a simple russet tunic instead of her familiar Archon robes. Her red hair was still shining damply from recently bathing. _'And what a glorious sight that must be'_ he thought, watching as she walked towards the roaring fire. Her hips swinging with their customary appealing sway. Zevran would have been content to observe her for a moment longer, radiant as she was, haloed in the warm glow from the hearth. Until she gave a weary sigh, a sound that nagged at him. Tutting to announce his presence, he was impressed when Garnet didn't even flinch, just simply glanced over her shoulder at him.

"You look so tired my dear," Zevran soothed, moving towards her. "It's all this constant walking, and fighting. I think I know what you need…" He dropped his voice lower in pitch, standing so close he knew she would feel the heat from his body, even though they were not quite touching.

"Oh? This I have to hear," she quipped, as she turned to face him. The spark returning to her lovely green eyes, despite her evident tiredness.

Zevran could not explain why he was so delighted that the warden hadn't taken a step back, merely looking up at him, almost through her lashes. He was so tempted to run a hand down her cheek, to whisper a fantasy or two in her ear that would make her melt into his arms. But no, this was not meant as a meaningless seduction, Zevran wanted her to want this… to want him. He merely wanted to state that it was an option available to her, even though he knew she deserved better than him. After all, it wasn't like the stuck up Templar, or the Bann, could give her the service Zevran had in mind.

"My thought is this, we retire to bed, and I show you the sort of massage skills one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse," he suggested, though why he added the self-depreciation, he wasn't sure. Perhaps his mouth was trying to remind him that he really wasn't worth the warden's attention, no matter how much he enjoyed or wanted it.

"A massage?" Garnet smirked in reply, her tone indicating she didn't exactly believe him.

He knew her to be perceptive, but the offer wasn't actually a euphemism, merely an extra. Quickly, he produced a few small vials from the hidden compartment of his belt, the golden liquid shimmering in the warm light. There is a flash of emotion in her eyes, and for a moment he wondered if she was disappointed, but it was quickly gone as she chuckled.

"Sure, that sounds… _really_ good actually," Garnet agreed.

"A willing victim it is," he teased, feeling oddly nervous at voicing the next part, despite that flash of emotion he saw. Pushing away the useless and unwanted feeling, Zevran offered her his hand. As she took it, he walked backwards, slowly leading her to the large four-poster bed. "And if I might ask, if the opportunity to proceed past the massage should present itself?" he flirted, his teasing mask firmly in place, to hide the hope he actually felt. There was no denying, he had bedded many women, and men, before… but Garnet Amell was different.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something," she replied, her voice taking on a husky tone that shot straight to his groin. "Besides," Garnet smiled, closing the distance between them and laying a hand across his chest, over his heart. "It's not like I could resist you," she whisper in his ear, her breath sending an unexpected shiver down his spine. "My handsome, Antivan assassin." She punctuated the sentence by seductively licking up the tapered curve of his sensitive ear.

It took a considerable amount of self-control, more than Zevran cared to admit, not to outright moan at her careful attention. However, it was her words… well, one in particular, that had thrown him off balance, yet he chuckled to hide his surprise before pulling her roughly into his embrace. _'Hers!' _Why that sent an unusual ache to his chest, Zevran wasn't sure. What he was certain of though, was that he had definitely gotten more than he expected with the beautiful mage.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****If you hadn't guessed it, this is the start of the 'romance' scene between the pair. I wanted to add in Zevran's feelings, because of what he mentions later in the game… Sorry, not sorry, for the tease of halting the scene where it is. Let it be a warning that the next chapter will be rated M, and from Amell's PoV.**


	17. The Promise

**The Promise **(Amell PoV)

Though she would never have admitted it to him, to save his pride if nothing else, Garnet had noticed how Zevran's breath had caught when she called him 'hers'. It had taken more willpower than she would have liked to control the smirk that had wanted to form. For all his teasing and bravado, who would have thought that simple word would be what tripped up the assassin? Certainly not her.

Now Garnet lay face down on the sumptuous, red brocade eiderdown, naked as the day she was born, with the lean yet well-muscled Antivan straddling her hips. She let out a soft, contented moan as his nimble fingers smoothed out another knot in her shoulder muscles, that she hadn't realised was causing her discomfort until that moment. The rich, floral fragrance of the warm oil teased her sense of smell. Heavy Rose with an alluring under-note, one that Zevran had called Ylang-Ylang.

She sighed again as his surprisingly soft hands glided to her other shoulder, their movement help by the oil, and Garnet let her mind drift back to slightly earlier in the evening. Standing next to the ornately carved, mahogany bed, they had undressed each other slowly. The act of removing an item of clothing was punctuated by a gentle caress, or whispered endearment, even the occasional light, teasing kiss but never anything heavy or frenzied. It had almost been romantic, something that had never entered her fantasies about the elf, and there had certainly been plenty. Garnet had always imagined that if she were ever to sleep with Zevran it would have been all fire and passion, never something as soft and gentle as what had taken place so far.

"Te ves preciosa, mi querida," Zevran whispered in her ear, bringing her back to the present.

Smiling, Garnet pushed herself up on her forearms and glanced over her shoulder at the handsome elf. "One day you're going to have to teach me Antivan," she told him.

"Si, Cariño," he grinned, his eyes unceremoniously falling to the curve of her breasts, that the shift in position had revealed.

Garnet had felt the obvious sign of Zevran's arousal lightly pressed against her lower back throughout the massage, yet it was the look in his amber eyes that made her fully aware of his desires. She had told him earlier that she would be sure to think of _something_, should the 'opportunity to proceed past the massage' presented itself, and Garnet was sure this was the perfect moment to do so. Even though she was hardly a virgin, since it was surprising how much mischief you could get up to without the Templars or senior mages realising, Garnet would never have considered herself a bold person. However, she found herself rolling onto her back, Zevran's act of leaning forward to whisper in her ear granting her the room to manoeuvre. Slowly, she ran her hands down the toned expanse of his chest and abdomen. Her eyes followed, drawn to the sweeping tattoo along his left side, whilst her mind marked the difference of her porcelain pale skin against his bronzed hue. Snaking a hand up and around the back of his neck, enjoying the light tickle his blonde hair caused across the back of her hand, Garnet pulled him closer.

Gazing up at him from beneath her lashes, she felt her heart begin to race and her lips tingled in anticipation. All their previous kisses had been quick, flirty affairs, and she had completely different plans for this one. Being this close to him, Garnet noticed the spattering of dark flecks in Zevran's vivid amber eyes. Distantly, the sound of a guard's rhythmic patrol of the corridors reached her ears, though it did nothing to distract her from the elf holding himself mere inches above her. The exotic smell of him, a scent reminiscent of Sandalwood and faint notes of leather, mingled with the heady perfume of the massage oil that still lingered on her skin. The scant space between their bodies seemed electrified to her. As Zevran closed the remaining distance, his warm skin pressed flush against hers, a pleasant and tantalising weight. The firm length of him teasing her own arousal, as his full lips finally met hers. Feeling his tongue ghost along her lips, Garnet opened her mouth instinctively, and her own tongue starting a languid dance with his. The faint, minty taste of him assaulted her senses. As their kiss deepened, a sigh escaped her, just as she felt Zevran groan into her mouth. The sound so unbelievably erotic she found her body responding to him on it's own volition.

Unsurprisingly, Garnet felt him chuckle against her lips, even as he pressed his hips into hers, mimicking her movements from moments before. "It seems you are eager, my dear Grey Warden."

Unphased by his teasing, she cheekily ran her tongue across the curve of his bottom lip in a brazen lick. "Like you're complaining," Garnet quipped, almost daring him to refute her claim.

"Not at all, mi tentadora," Zevran agreed, giving her collar bone a playful nip. "And as delightful as our present… position is, I must ask, are you sure you want this?" he asked, staring intently into her eyes.

'_I should be scared of him'_ a vague, far off part of her brain reminded her. But as Garnet looked up at him, taking in his dishevelled blonde locks that had escaped his customary braids and hung loosely around his face, she couldn't help smile at the assassin. During their heated kiss, their bodies had shifted in position, and the elf now lay between her legs. Grinning at him wickedly, something Garnet was sure he'd appreciate, she hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

"Answer your question?" she asked, almost mockingly, enjoying how the tip of him pressed, teasingly, against her wetness. His answering groan sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.

"Impatient," he scolded in a strained pant against the crook her neck, before giving her another well-place nip. "You will get your way, _this time_, mi querida. Though I _will _have you begging later."

'_Is that a threat or promise?'_ Garnet didn't have long to ponder, because in one swift, slightly unexpected stroke, Zevran hilted himself inside her. She couldn't help but gasp, surprise and pleasure both colouring the sound as her back arched off the bed involuntarily. Opening her eyes that she hadn't realised she'd closed, Garnet looked up at her lover, for there was really no other word for him, not at this moment. He wore a wholly too-self-satisfied smirk.

"Ass," she chuckled, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him into a bruising kiss as she adjusted to the delicious stretch he caused.

"Like you're complaining?" he mimicked, when they finally parted for air.

Any retort Garnet was planning to make died with a fluid roll of his hips. The slide of him, the heated friction, it felt better than she could imagine. It was much better than any of the trysts she had experienced in the tower, and far better than she was even going to admit. _'He's got a big enough ego!'_ Garnet gave him a rueful smile before, once again, deftly running her tongue along the tapered curve of his left ear. To her delight, it caused his steady rhythm to stutter, if only for a moment. It was oddly satisfying to know she affected him so, especially with the copious amount of lovers she knew he had.

Giving him a wink, Garnet rolled her hips, setting a new, faster rhythm. One Zevran matched easily, though there was no surprise. Then, without warning, he shifted her right leg to rest over his shoulder. The deeper angle caused her to moan, perhaps a little louder than she cared to admit. _'Blasted elf'_ she thought wryly, his knowing smirk not bothering her one iota. Determined not to let him get the upper hand for long, she channelled a small ice spell to the fingertips of her left hand, lightly trailing them down his side. She was rewarded by another stutter in his pace, and childishly, Garnet claimed that as a victory.

"Cheat," he muttered into her hair, though a smile was evident in his voice.

When this had become a game, she wasn't sure, though she certainly couldn't remember a time when sex had been so fun or relax. There was something uniquely special about the Antivan assassin, that was something Garnet was sure of. How else could she explain why an act that was so intimate in nature seemed so companionable? The fact they could joke and tease each other throughout was a little surprising, slightly endearing, and very enticing. Not that she was inclined to let Zevran know any of this, not any time soon at least.

"I thought you were a master lover, Zev," she goaded, cupping his face and starring boldly into his eyes as she matched him move for move. "You're going to have to do better than this, if you hope to impress me." The fact that it took a lot of effort on Garnet's part not to sound out of breath was merely a side note.

For a fleeting moment, Garnet could have sworn she saw his eyes widen, but the look was soon replaced by amusement that danced in their amber depths. "Oh I intend to," Zevran chuckled before moving his lips close to her right ear, his warm breath eliciting a delightful shiver from her. "This is merely a warm up, Cariño, I promise."

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****So, I thought I'd give you all a glimpse into the thought process of this chapter. To start with, I debated between writing something hot &amp; heavy or something with a little more 'feeling' (like my Thane/FemShep sex scenes). However, neither felt right regarding these two. Anything emotional felt too early in their story, anything too steamy felt overly worked. Finally I figured, knowing Zevran's character, and the relationship I think he'd have with an easy-going/accepting Amell, their first time could easily end up like this. So… there you have it! Also, the idea of the tattoo comes from Zevran's comments to Leliana when in Orzammar, and I have in mind it would look similar to his facial tattoo.  
For those of you who are unsure/don't know, an eiderdown is a type of quilt, traditionally filled with eider duck down.**  
**Both Rose and Ylang-Ylang are known to me sensual/romantic fragrances which is why I imagined the oil to smell like them. Sandalwood is another sensual fragrance, but usually considered a masculine scent, thus why I think Zevran would smell of it!**  
**"Te ves preciosa, mi querida" roughly translates to "you look ravishing, my dear", "Si,** **Cariño" means "Yes, honey/hunny", and "mi tentadora" translates to "my temptress". Yes I'm using Spanish for Antivan as it seems the most similar/plausible language. **


	18. A Rude Awakening

**A Rude Awakening **(Zevran PoV)

Loud, steady knocking dragged him from sleep. An Antivan curse forming on his tongue before his brain registered the warmth pressed against the length of his body. After opening one eye, Zevran found the grey light of dawn had barely begun to filter into the room, and his gaze quickly fell to the tousled red hair of his companion. The knocking turned into heavy pounding, and Garnet groaned, evidently only just returning from the Fade. The small, disgruntled sound caused an unexpected warmth to bloom in his chest, the type he hadn't felt before. Zevran had little time to consider these feelings as the sound of a solid weight thumping the door added to the insistent pounding.

"Alright, alright," Garnet called, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "I'm awake. Give me a moment."

Briefly, Zevran wondered if it was wrong to stay the night. Granted 'night' was a strong word, their _activities_ lasting well into the early hours of the morning. But still… he had grown up knowing he had to take his pleasure whenever he could. Known they were merely fleeting moments, known to leave when the deed was done. Yet he _had_ stayed, and the strange heaviness in his chest would not abate. Unexpectedly, Garnet leant up and brushed a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. It was almost affectionate in nature, and Zevran wondered if he was simply fooling himself with the notion.

"Good morning lover," she smiled, gently stroking his tattooed cheek before she pushed herself out of his arms, and slipped out of bed.

He tried to ignore how his heart pounded at her pleasant greeting, the tenderness in her tone. The only other person to be happy to see him the morning after was… _'No!'_ Zevran pushed the thought aside, and busied himself with propping his head up to watch Garnet's naked beauty as she sauntered towards the heavy oak door. He watched as she slipped on a deep blue, silk robe that hung from a nearby hook, then opened the door. The moment she did, Garnet was knocked aside as an eager mabari bounded into the room. The hound immediately jumped up onto an armchair near the hearth, rather the charging for the bed. Something Zevran was certainly thankful for. His mouth quirked into a smirk as he noticed Cadoc's eagerness had managed to slightly shift Garnet's robe, revealing a tantalising amount of cleavage.

"Oh… um… er…" a male voice stuttered, the owner hidden behind the door. Though Zevran had an inclining of who it would be.

"Alistair? You're looking awfully red. Are you feeling unwell? Do you need me to make up a potion for you?" Garnet asked.

The minx sounded more cheerful than the ungodly hour should really permit. Valiantly, Zevran bit back a chuckle. He could well image the shade that the Templar had turned, and had a feeling the silken robe revealing some of Garnet's ample assets had everything to do with it.

"No, no. It's nothing like that. Um… really it could have waited, I suppose, but erm…" Alistair bumbled, only halting the wave of speech when Garnet tried to stifle a yawn. "Oh. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to wake you. Are you okay? Did you not sleep well? Was it nightmares again?"

The gentleness in the Templar's voice struck a chord with Zevran. It was evident Alistair was genuinely worried about his fellow Grey Warden. It twisted the heaviness in his chest. Once again making him wondered if he was wrong to fall asleep with Garnet in his arms. It had felt _right_, that he couldn't deny, but he knew he had overstayed his welcome. He wasn't her lover, not in the deeper meaning of the word, and certainly not her partner. Sighing quietly, as to not alert Alistair to his presence, Zevran screwed his eyes shut.

'_Idiota!'_ he cursed himself. He knew his place, as much as he hated to admit it. He was merely a tool, something to be used. He had come to her last night for the sole purpose of Garnet using his body to relieve her tension, granted she hadn't asked, but the facts were still the same. With that in mind, Zevran realised how selfish it was for him to stay. Garnet had a lot to lose, should her dalliance with an elf, a former Crow no-less, ever be known. Whereas he had nothing, _was_ nothing. Nothing but a pathetic son of a whore.

A soft hand cupping his face halted his self-belittling. "What on earth is going on in that head of yours?" Garnet asked kindly, as she curled her body against his, her head resting on his shoulder.

He wouldn't admit it, but he breathed in her scent. The fragrance of the massage oils still clung to her skin, as did the scent of their passion. "Nothing of importance, Cariño," he lied. "Though I do wonder what Alistair wanted, I admit I may have dozed off while you talked." It was another lie, but it was better than burdening her with his thoughts.

"Oh, he just wants to set off on the hunt for the ashes as early as possible, whilst not actually realising how early it still is," she chuckled. "I mean, the sun isn't even fully up for Maker's sake!"

Despite his common sense, Zevran snaked his arms around her petite frame and pulled her silk wrapped body closer to his bare skin. "And who are you taking on this quest?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, also against his better judgement.

"Alistair, obviously. He'd probably go searching for it on his own if I didn't, and Leliana would never forgive me if I didn't bring her. Purely on the off chance the ashes _are_ real, which I honestly doubt," Garnet explained, idly tracing the sweeping tattoo that snaked along his side.

Her gentle ministrations had Zevran forcing himself not to shiver in pleasure. Her touch was more enjoyable than it had any right to be. "Cadoc will be your fourth member, no?" he asked nonchalantly, determined to hide his disappointment.

"Actually, I was hoping you would be willing," Garnet admitted. "Maker knows there's only such holy reverence I can take before I feel the need to set something alight! You'd be keeping me sane. Though if you'd prefer to stay here…"

"How could I say no to such a beautiful woman as yourself," he interrupted. Zevran had known since pledging himself to her, that he would follow Garnet anywhere. However the unfamiliar weight in his chest left him with other questions, ones he needed to know the answers to, lest he became distracted with thoughts above his station. "And with that decided, as the priestess so famously said to the handsome actor, what now?" he asked in his usually jokey manner, building back the wall against the inevitable rejection. Since, realistically, a one-night-stand was more than his kind was worth to a woman like the warden.

"Priestess? Actor? Huh?" Garnet questioned, pushing herself up to look at him. "Actually, never mind," she smiled, shaking her head. "What now... that I understood, and I was about to ask you the same."

Smirking, he brushed aside a few errant strands of hair from her face. This was merely to stall for time, so he didn't accidentally blurt out what he actually wanted to say. Admitting he'd most likely make a deal with demon to spend another night with her, was hardly a good idea, especially to a mage.

"Allow me to make it simple my lovely Grey Warden," he said instead. "What comes next, is _entirely_ up to you."

"Zev," Garnet chided, her green eyes narrowing slightly.

"Cariño, I was raised to take my pleasures where they could be found, for they do not come very often. I shall ask nothing more of you, than you are willing to give," Zevran explained solemnly, running the pad of his thumb along the curve of her lower lip.

Emotion flashed in her eyes, too quick for him to discern, before a devilish smile graced her lips and her tongue darted out to lick his thumb. "And what if I'm willing to give more than you can handle?" she asked seductively.

He outright laughed at her actions. "You saucy minx. We have come very far from those early days from when I tried to kill you, and you decided not kill me," he joked. "Fate is such a tricky whore, isn't she?" He couldn't help stealing a sweet kiss before he released his hold on her. "At any rate, we should be on our way." Zevran reluctantly sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, not liking how the chilled, early morning air assaulted his naked skin. "A new day awaits us, or so the rumour goes."

Zevran felt an unexpected kiss being pressed to the back of his shoulder, over the top of a prominent scar he had received thanks to one of the Crow's more _enthusiastic _masters. His breath hitched. As a rule, he didn't let his anyone, especially lovers, see his back. Marked as it was from his training. The scars were unattractive, prompted too many questions and too many memories. He had hoped the room was still too reveal them, his usual method of hiding them was to be gone before they could be seen. Zevran still didn't know why he had broken this with Garnet, but thankfully she merely chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind and placing another kiss to his cheek. He almost sighed in relief.

"You know... one day, I'm going to sit down and write a book titled Zevranisms. It will be filled with all the profound Antivan sayings you like to share, only with added, detailed translation so no other poor Ferelden has to suffer like I do," she teased.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****So, I thought I'd explore a different side to Zevran's personality with this chapter, mainly prompted from his line at the end of the game stating that: "From the first night you asked me into your tent, I have been nothing but confused".  
The idea from the scars came from Zevran's dream while trapped in the fade. If the rack was part of his training, I'm sure there would be a lot of other, unsavoury aspects to it. One's that would leave marks.**


	19. A Dragon's Tail

**A Dragon's Tail **(Amell PoV)

"This is a Maker damned joke," she muttered angrily, shrugging of her woollen cape and unslinging her bow.

This journey had been one disturbing, blood drenched folly after the other. First the unsettling alter in one of the homes in the village, and the boy carrying a human finger bone in his pocket like a good luck charm, had only been the start of it. Then there was the insane priest, who had spouted rambling nonsense and tried to kill them. Along with being attacked by the crazed villagers, acting more like rabid beasts than sentient creatures. Which was followed by a pack of deranged cultists trying to kill them. Now, to ice the proverbial cake that Haven had turned out to be, a high dragon was _also_ trying to kill them.

"Cariño, may I suggest somewhere slightly less lethal for our next date?" Zevran quipped, throwing off his cape in a flourish and slipping past her with his sword and dagger raised.

"Zev, you trying to tell me you don't find imminent death romantic?" Garnet teased back.

She hated killing animals, particularly dragons, which was something the assassin had found out during their travels. So Garnet was immensely glad that he was trying to distract her thoughts. However, she still smiled darkly as one of her arrows embedded itself in the dragon's neck. With a roar loud enough to start an avalanche, the purple beast spun. It's heavy tail slashing in a wide arch, missing herself and Leliana completely due to distance. Zevran practically danced out of harm's way, she movements graceful and calculated. Though in sickening slow motion, Garnet watched as the swipe caught Alistair full in the chest, hurling the Templar across the small clearing they fought in. The sound of crunching bones, as her fellow warden made contact with a partially intact wall of the nearby ruin reached her ears, though it was muffled beneath her scream of his name.

A hand quickly squeezed her shoulder. "Go. I will cover you," Leliana proclaimed, her customary daggers already being exchanged for the bow she had taken from Marjolaine weeks prior.

With a grateful nod, Garnet set off across the clearing as if a horde of darkspawn were on her heels. In the back of her mind, she was thankful that Duncan had convinced her to abandon the long robes of the Circle all those months ago. She repressed the urge to squeal in shock as she crashed to her knees, cold snow creeping up and over the top of her long boots, as she sank to her thighs in the blood flecked drift. Ripping off her gloves, she reached for the broken figure of her friend. Alistair's body was lying in such a crumpled heap, that it was a wonder he was still breathing. Her hands glowed with a pale green light as she released the first of her healing spells, quickly turning blue as she cast Regeneration.

"Oh thank the Maker," Garnet huffed when the Templar finally let out a groan.

However, an Antivan curse quickly ended her relief. Turning back towards the fight, she saw Zevran leaping up on to a window ledge of the ruin, away from the snapping jaws of the dragon. Anger flashed through her as she unleashed a hastily cast Crushing Prison, and it wasn't until she was conjuring a Fireball, that her mind finally caught up with her actions. After a quick check to make sure that Alistair was regaining consciousness, Garnet rushed back to the open space of the clearing, retrieving her discarded bow as she went, and only halting her run when she was back at Leliana's side. With practised eased, the two women barraged the dragon with synchronised arrows until both their quivers were depleted. Zevran made well timed hacks and slashes with his poisoned blades whenever an opening was presented.

Just as Leliana was about to replace bow with blades, Garnet grabbed her wrist starring in awed shock. She watched mesmerised, as Zevran leapt up onto the ruin's window ledge once more, only to bound off again, grabbing one of the dragon's pink tinged horns and sinking his sword into the beast's skull. With an agonised roar, it shook it's head trying to dislodge the assassin, who merely sunk a dagger into the dragon's bloodshot left eye. For a heart stopping moment, Garnet thought the elf would be trapped under the beast as it thrashed it's death throws. Yet, Zevran merely barrel-rolled out of harm's way as the dragon's body finally crashed to the ground. A plume of dry snow being thrown up in a cloud as it did. Without thinking, Garnet threw her arms around the elf's neck the second he came close enough to reach. For a moment, Zevran seemed surprised, if the rigid posture of his stance was anything to go by. But then his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Las cosas hago para usted," Zevran murmured into her hair, though Garnet had little time to ponder what that could mean.

"It seems I missed all the fun," Alistair stated, sounding a little groggy.

Looking up from where her head was buried in the assassin's neck, Garnet watched as the Templar nudged the dragon with the toe of his boot. His back was to them, and presumably he was oblivious to the embrace she was sharing with the elf. Which was a little bit of relief, given their location and pressing circumstances.

"I'm glad you're alright," Garnet whispered to Zevran, gently slipping out of his hold.

It wasn't that she was ashamed of what the two of them shared, though she had no idea _what_ exactly it could be called. Considering they had only slept together once, several days ago. Not that Garnet wouldn't enjoy a repeat of that night, but the two of them sharing a tent with Alistair and Leliana for warmth made that impossible until they were back in Redcliffe. Which was another week away at least. As she walked past, the redheaded rouge gave her a knowing look, one that Garnet returned with a beaming smile. No. Definitely not ashamed. She was merely too bone weary to try and find a delicate way of explaining the situation should Alistair notice and start asking questions.

Upon reaching the Templar, who was still examining the dragon corpse, Garnet gently wrapped her arms around his armoured waist from the side. "Don't do that again. You're the only brother I've got, I like you alive."

Chuckling, Alistair wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Thankfully, careful not to dig the edge of his metal gauntlet into her spine as he so often managed to do. "No getting injured from dragon attacks. Got it." He kissed the top of her head in the absent-minded way he usually did. "I can't believe a high dragon swooped down on us. I always knew swooping was bad."

"Of course you did," she laughed, pulling away from him. "And whilst you were napping the rest of us did the hard work. Though Zevran got the killing blow, it was pretty amazing."

Garnet turned to grin at the elf, only to find him staring at her. All trace of his usual cheek and cheerfulness gone. If she hadn't known better, Garnet would have sworn he was scowling.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****So this chapter is based directly on my playthrough where the high dragon 'killed' Alistair and Zevran killed the dragon! With added ruminations about what Amell would be thinking and how I think our favourite elf might act following the last chapter.  
'Las cosas hago para usted' translates to 'the things I do for you' for those who are wondering. **


	20. The Uncomfortable Truth

**The Uncomfortable Truth **(Zevran PoV)

There was a time he would have laughed, watching someone talk to… well, 'spirit' was the only word Zevran could think to describe the guardian. However, he was still in turmoil over witnessing Garnet and Alistair together. He already knew the two wardens were close, but something about how they were after the defeat of the dragon riled him. What aggravated Zevran further, was that he didn't exactly know why. The remaining trek up the treacherous mountain hadn't helped his darkening mood, nor had the snowstorm that had closed in around them.

Now, they stood shivering in the draughty, cobweb covered entrance hall of the Shrine of Andraste. Whilst Garnet had a conversation with a spirit, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Then again, She was a mage, so perhaps it was an ordinary occurrence for her. Yet Zevran doubted that. He was so lost in his inner monologue, that he had missed most of the warden's conversation with the guardian. It was only the tensing of her shoulders, which he caught out the corner of his eye, that brought his attention fully back to the scene in front of him.

"Yes," Garnet was almost whispering. "I thought telling Irving was the right thing to do, that he could help Jowan. I was wrong, I betrayed him." She brushed the back of her hand across her cheek, and it was only then that Zevran realised she was crying.

"Thank you. That is all I wished to know," the guardian replied, his voice devoid of emotion.

"You are too hard on yourself. No one is perfect," Alistair soothed, much to Zevran's chagrin.

"You could not have known what would happen," Leliana stated, taking Garnet's hand. "You did what you thought was best."

The whole scene irked Zevran, sorely. He was angry at the guardian for whatever was said to upset the warden, and annoyed at himself that it bothered him so much. He'd seen plenty of people cry, men and women alike. However, he still wanted to comfort Garnet. To take her into his arms and hold her, let her cry and unburden herself. Though in present company, he did not feel he could do that, nor did he think she would appreciate seeming so vulnerable in front of the others. So instead, he settled for sarcasm.

"And now the self-flagellation?" he asked, flippantly. "For that is what comes next in these things, no?" The words came out more bitter than he had intended, earning him scowls from both Alistair and Leliana.

It also seemed to earn him the ire of the guardian as well, for the spirit suddenly rounded on him. "And the Antivan elf. Many have died at your hand, but is there any you regret more than a woman by the name of…"

Zevran's eyes widened in shock as he released where the enquiry was going, before they narrowed in anger. "How do you know about that?" he demanded.

"I know much," came the cryptic reply. "It is allowed to me. The question stands, however. Do you regret…"

"Yes!" Zevran grit out through clenched teeth, crossing his arms across his chest defensively. His eyes flashed to Garnet on their own volition, and he found her regarding him with a look of concern and confusion. "The answer is yes," he stated again, with only slightly less venom, casting his eyes to the floor. "If that is what you wish to know. I do. Now move on."

Swallowing hard, Zevran dared not raise his gaze from the section of broken flag stone his eyes hand settled on, lest he met Garnet's again. Silently, he fought to keep his breathing even and his hands from shaking, refusing to show how unsettled he felt. _'Show no weakness' _he repeated words as if they were a mantra, over and over in his mind. He couldn't fathom how the spirit had known about that fateful night, what had transpired and what he had done. His days and nights had been plagued by guilt and memories since it had happened, something that had only began to wan once he met the beautiful warden.

Shaking his head, Zevran bit back an angry sigh. The guardian's question had re-opened the barely healing wounds on his soul. It had re-established his self-loathing, and reminded him how unworthy he was of Garnet's attention. '_Me cago en la madre que te parió_!_' _he glowered silently at the spirit. His mind was in such turmoil that he barely caught the guardian speaking with the other two. Something regarding Leliana and the Chantry, as well as Alistair and Duncan, the latter only vaguely sinking in because of the mention of the man Garnet also held dear. He hadn't realised that the guardian had faded from sight, or that the others hand moved through the now unbarred doorway, until he felt a gentle hand wrap around his right bicep.

"I don't know what that was about, and I won't pry. Just know you can talk to me if you need to," Garnet said, giving him a small smile.

He was taken aback by her gesture. "Cariño, no merezco tu bondad," he replied, shutting his eye to ward off a flood of emotion as her other hand cupped his cheek, the warmth of her touch melting some of his pain.

Zevran felt Garnet squeeze his arm, before she sighed. It was a tired, sad sound. "Whatever it is, I'm here for you Zev."

To his surprise, he felt her lips gently caress his cheek. The soft floral scent of her, the heat of her body, momentarily chased away the bleakness he felt. All too soon the sensation was lost, and he opened his eyes to watch her walk towards Alistair and Leliana who stood in the near distance, evidently trying to light torches to illuminate the dark corridors that lay ahead. As Garnet neared the threshold, she stopped and turned to face him. Another small smile formed on her lips as she held out her hand to him. His feet moved on their own accorded, and Zevran soon found himself reaching out to grasp her hand. Swallowing past the lump threatening to form in his throat, he was infinitely glad that Garnet did not mention how his hand trembled as his fingers laced with hers.

"It will be okay," was all she said, before pulling him to join the others.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
**'**Me cago en la madre que te parió!' translates to 'I shit on the mother who gave birth to you'**_**. **_**Sorry, I wanted a curse that was so vulgar, it would really portray Zevran's anger. **_**'**_**Cariño, no merezco tu bondad' roughly translates to 'Honey, I don't deserve your kindness'.**


	21. Baptism of Fire

**Baptism of Fire **(Amell PoV)

Biting back a sigh, Garnet closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. She had thought, after beating every challenge the shrine had thrown at them, that things couldn't get worse... or weirder. How wrong she had been. Exhaling a carefully controlled breath, Garnet read the text in front of her again.

**Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight.**

Sceptically, Garnet glanced from the altar, to the flames, and back again. For good measure, she also re-read the carved text... fifth time a charm. Unfortunately, it still read the same. Unable to resist the urge to sigh this time, Garnet pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stave off the impending headache. After all the stupid trails that hampered their way through the shrine…

"The Maker is a damned pervert," she muttered to Leliana, as she started to unsling her bow and quiver.

"What do you… oh," the rogue replied, peering over her shoulder to read. "I see…" Leliana deftly began to unbuckle the belt that held her daggers in place around her hips, evidently reaching the same conclusion.

"Alistair, Zev? Leli and I are going to be baring all in the name of Andraste, so could you be gentlemen and turn your backs for a while?" Garnet asked flippantly, untying the knotted ribbon that held her corseted bodice together.

"What…" Whatever Alistair was going to say trailed off, as he flushed an interesting crimson. Undoubtedly only just realising the two women were undressing.

"What a terrible time to need to be a gentleman," Zevran chuckled, his eyes roving unabashed over Garnet's barely clothed figure as she shrugged out of her robe. "But for such lovely ladies, we will endeavour to keep any nosy guardians at bay. Won't we, my fine fellow?" The last sentence was directed to Alistair, as Zevran clapped the taller man on the shoulder, ushering him towards the chamber door.

Catching herself smiling fondly at the elf's retreating back, Garnet shook her head, and divested herself of her final article of clothing. She gave Leliana a nervous smile before regarding the flames with trepidation. This had to be one of the most idiotic things she had ever done.

"Worried?" her fellow redhead asked in a quiet voice, coming to stand beside her.

"Terrified," Garnet whispered in reply. Clasping the rogue's right hand with her left, Garnet was slightly mollified when her hand was squeezed tighter. "One… Two… Three."

Without letting the other go, the two women began to walk through the wall of fire. Surprisingly, the flames brushed their skin with no more than a slight tingle of warmth. Though caution still made them go slowly, lest some previously unseen trap awaited them. Their fingers remained intertwined as they started to ascend a flight of stone stairs that had been hidden by the towering flames. When they reached the apex, Leliana gasped and Garnet's head snapped away from the sight of a beautifully carved marble statue with a golden urn nestled at it's base, towards her friend. The rogue's sapphire blue eyes were brimming with unshed tears.

"I never believed I would lay my eyes on the Urn of Sacred Ashes," Leliana whispered reverently. "I… I… I… have no words to express…"

Garnet raised their still clasped hands, and kissed the back of the rogue's. "Take a moment," she smiled, before releasing her hold and moving towards the urn.

Carefully, she removed the ornate lid. _'I hope this provides the miracle we need'_ she thought as she regarded the grey ashes. Gently she took a pinch, cupping the powder in both her hands, hoping no particle would escape her grasp before she managed to secure the remains in the velvet pouch that lay with her discarded robe. As they turned to make their way back across the chamber, it became evident that the flames with beginning to recede, making their path clearer. However, it wasn't until Garnet was lightly brushing the palms of her hands together, over the velvet pouch that Leliana held open, that she finally let out a relieved sigh.

"You were successful, no?" Zevran called over his shoulder, never once turning his head, much to Garnet's surprise.

"Let's just hope it was worth it," she replied, hurriedly redressing. Her actions were halted when she felt, more than witnessed, the ethereal fire sputter out.

"Allow me," Zevran's rich voice rumbled near her ear, as he took the ribbons of her corset from Garnet's unresisting hands.

"Thank you," she muttered distractedly once he had finished securing the bodice.

Bizarrely, being helped to dress was one of the most sensuous activities she had ever encountered. The thought was entirely backward to her, and the fact it happened with two of her friends in the room only added to the unusualness of it. That was before she took into account that she had already slept with the man helping her, or that the guardian had suddenly emerged into the chamber. Absent-mindedly, Garnet gave Zevran a chaste kiss, completely missing his look of shock as she turned her attention to the spirit.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****Not strictly an Amell/Zevran chapter, but stemming from ideas that wouldn't leave my head after this quest. Mainly, how odd the final 'test' was, and did all four of them really need to strip to get the ashes. I also wanted the 'trial' to be a little more impressive, because the flames in game looked like you could just jump over them, after everything else in the shrine, I thought it would end a little more fire &amp; brimstone! **


	22. Pillow Talk

**Pillow Talk **(Zevran PoV)

The return trip from Haven had been thankfully uneventful. The ashes had surprisingly living up to their fabled legend, though the Arl was still sleeping. However, his sleep was now from a concoction of herbs that the warden and Wynne had prepared to help stave off any lingering sickness, rather than the Fade induced coma. Despite the uncomfortable encounter with Andraste's guardian, and the unspoken questions that seemed to reside in Garnet's eyes whenever she looked at him now, even Zevran had to concede their fool's errand had been successful. More so now that said warden back in _his_ arms, tracing idle patterns on _his_ chest, both of them naked and sated after their shared passion in _his_ bed no less. Not the blighted Templar's. Not that Zevran was bothered by Garnet and Alistair's closeness, not one bit.

"Tell me about your adventures," the warden asked suddenly as she nuzzled his neck, planting sporadic kisses as she pleased.

"My adventures? I'm hardly an old man just returned from across the ocean am I?" he chuckled. "Should I shake my fist at nearby children whilst I talk about the good old days?"

"Zev!" Garnet chided, playfully nipping at his jaw. "You certainly talk like you've had adventures."

"Falling down a flight of stairs is an adventure. Falling into someone's bed, also an adventure," Zevran teased, pulling her closer to emphasis his point. He had never been one to indulge in affection after the act, but this sort of intimacy came naturally with the warden. Something Zevran would worry about, if he didn't currently feel so content.

Garnet thumped his chest lightly. "Humour this poor, sheltered Circle mage." She looked up at him, her eyes almost doe-like, and batted her long eyelashes. A pretty, faux pout on her full lips, that were still swollen from their heated kisses.

Since it was no secret that he loved recounting his stories to her, he sighed theatrically hoping to earn a giggle, which he quickly received. "I suppose what you are after are professional antidotes?"

"You know I can't resist tales of the great Zevran's exploits," she grinned, settling herself to lean on his chest, her gaze never leaving his.

Running a hand absent-mindedly through Garnet's tousled hair, he hummed in contemplation, trying to decide which mission to divulge before a smirk languidly formed on his lips. "My second mission ever for the Crows was a bit intriguing. I was sent to kill a mage, who had been meddling in politics."

Watching as her smooth brow furrowed in confusion, Zevran's smirk morphed into a genuine smile. "The Crows are willing to anger the Circle of Magi?" Garnet asked, sounding surprised.

"Mages, royals, rulers, Grey Wardens… In Antiva, no one is too important to escape the reach of the Crows. They've killed kings and queens, among others, that is simply how it is," he explained, lightly tracing her jade tattoo. "As it turned out, the mage in question was quite a delightful young woman. Long divine legs, as I recall, though not as ravishing as you Cariño," he added. Though he had never witnessed an inkling of jealousy from the redhead, Zevran supposed it best to err on the side of caution, especially considering the beautiful woman in his arms could kill him with the snap of her slender fingers.

"Nice save," Garnet teased, leaning up to plant a quick kiss on his lips. "So what happened with your leggy mage?"

"I caught her in a carriage on her way to escape to the provinces. After I killed her guard, she got down on her hands and knees and begged for her life. Rather aptly, I might added." The admission caused the warden to raise an eyebrow, a smirk on her lips, silently saying she could well imagine how the other woman had 'begged'. "So I joined her in the carriage for the night and left the next morning," Zevran continued.

Garnet tilted her head, her brow furrowing again, and for an awful moment he wondered if he had been too candid. Despite the warden excepting his past sexual history, and his profession, Zevran began to worry that it was folly to be so forthcoming with his history. Part of him admonished himself. What did it matter what she thought? This was nothing serious after all, just two people attracted to each other easing tension. The rest of him pointed out that was a complete lie. Against everything he had been brought up to know, Zevran considered her a friend, someone he… _cared_ about. Whether or not their physical relationship had any real meaning to it, he wasn't ready to consider. Though he could admit, at least to himself, that he cared what Garnet thought of him. A fact that was terrifying. Without warning, his heart began to beat faster in his chest, unable to read the look she was giving him.

"And she _didn't_ try to kill you?" the warden asked incredulously.

Whatever he had expected her to be thinking, Zevran hadn't really anticipated that, and he couldn't help but chuckle. Mirth born from relief as much as amusement. "Well, yes. Twice actually," he admitted, grinning ruefully. "And then she decided to use me instead. The woman had actually convinced me speak to the Crows on her behalf." Garnet rolled her eyes in response then bit her lower lip, in an obvious attempt not to laugh. "What can I say?" Zevran shrugged in good humour. "I was young and foolish at the time. Then, as I was kissing her goodbye to return to Antiva City, she slipped on the threshold and fell backwards out of the carriage, broke her neck. Shame really, but at least it happened quickly."

Garnet shook her head in apparent disbelief. "So you didn't _actually_ kill her?"

"Not _actually_, no. I was a bit unimpressed by the development at first, then I found out she told the drive to take her to Genellen instead. She had planned to lose me in the provinces. I would have looked very foolish to the Crows," he told her. _'Among other things'_ his brain added. "As it was, my master was very impressed that I done such a fine job of making it look like an accident. The Circle of Magi was unaware of foul play, and everyone was happier all around."

"Except for the mage," Garnet countered, though her smirk belied her words. "Do these sort of things happen to you often?"

"Like being spared by a benevolent and beautiful mark, who then helps me escape from the Crows?" Zevran quipped, capturing her lips for a teasing kiss. "Yes, it does seem to happen now and then doesn't it? It was after that, that I learned that one needn't let a pretty face go to your head. Professionalism is key. That's my moral for the day, you see."

"So you_ never_ mix business with pleasure?" the warden asked, her voice taking on a sultry purr.

Zevran couldn't resist, and quickly rolled Garnet on her back, pausing to rest his weight just above her. "Mmm, well there is you," he smirked as her fingernails began to lightly run down the expanse of his back. "But I must point out that you did have to capture me and tie me up first. Every rule has it's exception." And he was damned to admit just how many exceptions he was willing to make for the beautiful redhead that lay beneath him. It was troubling to realise that he would break most, if not all, of his own rules to stay by Garnet's side. "Now that I've mentioned tying me up in the context, do we have extra rope about," Zevran joked, trying to hide the discomfort that particular realisation had caused.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****First up, Happy New Year to you all.  
Secondly, Genellen is the actual city Zevran names in game. Though the wiki only states it's a settlement in Antiva. I'm not sure why, but I always thought this seemed like the type of conversation the pair would have, lying in bed after a heavy 'session', so here it is I suppose.**


	23. Signed, Sealed, Delivered

**Signed, Sealed, Delivered **(Amell PoV)

Her quill made one final scratch against the parchment before she set it down next to the inkwell. With a sigh, Garnet rested her chin on an upturned palm, regarding the short letter she had just written, waiting for the ink to dry before she sealed it for delivery. The events that had happened back in the Tower's library still bothered her, a great deal more than she let on. What no-one knew was that she had always cared for Cullen, and it wasn't until meeting Zevran that her desires had begun to change. The fact the Templar had moved to attack her, tore at Garnet's heart. She had known Cullen almost as long as she had known Jowan. Where she had let her fellow mage down, she was determined not to let the same happen with the Templar. So, she had decided to write to him.

**Ser Cullen,  
Foremost, know this letter is sent in mind of the tentative friendship we once shared. You have endured more than one soul ever should, especially one as kind as yours. Please know that, to some extent, I can understand what you went through.  
To be held against your will, tormented and fighting to remain vigilant, to know that the fate of you and your friends is held by those you cannot hope to challenge… That is the life of every Circle mage regarding the Templars and the Fade. I do not say this to anger you, merely for you to understand. You yourself have witnessed what a bad Templar can and will do. We both spent many an unfortunate night trying to heal the damage of an attack on an innocent apprentice. You with your quiet assurances, and me with my spells.  
On this, you must see reason. Just as Templars are not all wicked and power hungry, delighting on forcing themselves on mages who cannot protect themselves for fear of death or worse. Not all mages are evil and twisted like Uldred and his followers.  
Please know, had I been there sooner, I would have done everything in my power to safeguard you against what you have so wrongly suffered. We were friends once, or as close as a mage and a Templar are allowed to be. With that that in mind, know that you are not as alone as you must surely feel. If you let me, I will help how I can.  
Andraste watch over you.  
\- Garnet Amell**

Nodding in subdued satisfaction at her wording, she rolled the parchment neatly and affixed the seal. Pressing the Guerrin insignia that Teagan had kindly provided into the warm, red wax. Extinguishing the candle she had worked by, Garnet rose from the desk and made her way to the castle's main hall. It was their last night in Redcliffe, the Arl had now recovered from his ordeal, and as such the corridors were a bustle of activity. Eamon's men readying for their march to Denerim, Garnet's companions making preparations for their journey to the Brecilian Forest in search of the Dalish. She found Bann Teagan standing near the large fireplace that took up nearly the entire western wall of the hall. Smiling slightly, Garnet handed him the parchment along with his signet ring.

"I thank you for the loan of you seal, my lord," she said.

Unexpectedly, the younger Guerrin caught her hand and raised it so he could kiss her knuckles. "It was a pleasure, my lady. Rest assured I will have my best scout bare your message to it's mark." Teagan released her hand gently before retrieving a scroll from a nearby table. "This arrived for you a short while ago, though as you can see, there is no insignia, so I cannot tell you the source."

Smiling her thanks to the Bann, Garnet made to exit the hall, scroll in hand, when she almost collided with Zevran. The elf was clad in brown linen trousers and an unadorned white tunic that set off his bronze complexion quite handsomely. "Making a hasty retreat to read a love letter, no?" he teased, though his lazy smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"And here I thought your method of seduction was more tactile," Garnet retorted, calling on his words a few weeks prior.

Zevran took her arm, gentle escorting her back towards her room. "Perhaps it is from a secret admirer? A woman as lovely as yourself surely has a few."

"What do I need a secret admirer for?" Garnet shrugged, pushing open the door that led to her quarters.

Absent-mindedly, she leant against the door, holding it open for him, already beginning to read the scroll. Garnet barely managed to get the gist of the missive, something about a meeting in Bann Loren's lands and that the sender was a man named Elric, before she registered the startled gasps from two passing chambermaids as the blonde elf stepped over the threshold. She only looked up from her skimmed reading when Zevran's left hand caressed her right hip.

"Why indeed?" he asked, his voice taking a huskier edge.

Angry mutterings and the sound of disapproving tutting caused Garnet to turn her head towards the corridor. Not far from her door, a fair sized group of servants had gathered. Mostly human, though some were elven. She noted there were a mixture of looks on their faces. Annoyance or anger from the former, surprise or intrigue from the latter. Rolling her eyes, Garnet pushed off the door, closing the distance between her and Zevran.

"Hope you don't mind a bit of gossip," she whispered.

Garnet tugged at the collar of his tunic with her left hand, the missive crumbling in her grasp as she did. Unabashed, she pressed her lips to Zevran's, just as she gave the heavy door a shove with her other hand. It closed with a loud bang, no doubt leaving their unexpected audience gaping at her audacity.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****Just an idea that has been in my head for a while. I really like Cullen, and I want him &amp; Amell to have some sort of reconciliation. I also image that some Templar's would abuse their powers, as Ander's hints at in Awakening. My own headcannon is that was how Cullen and Amell grew to know each other, both trying to help make the Tower a safer place to be.  
The other scroll that is mentioned is a nod towards the Return to Ostagar DLC. I also thought it would be fun for the Grey Warden to cause a little bit of a scandal, perhaps giving Wynne a more legitimate reason for being such a cow… I'm sure you all know what conversation I'm referring to!**


	24. Witnessing Demons

**Witnessing Demons **(Zevran PoV)

Plans often had a way of being interrupted by fate, their plans especially it seemed. The two wardens had decided to diverge from the plan of travelling from Redcliffe to the Brecilian Forest, in order to follow the lead from the missive that Bann Teagan had given to Garnet. It was not that Zevran couldn't see the logic behind it, he could, but appreciating the reasons did little to warm him as he shivered. Ankle deep in snow was not how the Antivan liked to spend his days. The haunted look on Alistair's face and the sorrow the danced in Garnet's eyes was only adding to his discomfort.

It was unusual, but the whole group had travelled to Ostagar. The one time battlefield now blanketed in crisp snow that hid the legacy of war. Sporadic pockets of darkspawn had remained, but the eight strong group had managed to dispatch them soon enough. They'd happened upon the chest that Elric had mentioned, and Zevran couldn't help how is eyes had widened at the sight of the king's blade. "That is a sexy sword," he had blurted out as he coveted the weapon, yet it had seemed only Leliana had heard, for the bard had hummed her agreement whilst the others either poured over documents or scouted the area.

Now, Zevran stood transfixed with the others, unable to tear his eyes from the ghastly sight. The corpse of the dead king, astonishingly preserved by the prevailing cold, was displayed like some sort of sacrificed messiah. Held aloft on some hastily built, grizzly construct.

"Who would do such a thing?" Leliana asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Darkspawn," Morrigan replied. Almost in answer to the witch's statement, the recognisable growl of a genlock reached their ears, followed by the distinct clanking of bones.

"Necromancer," Garnet grit out through her teeth and Zevran watched in slight surprise as the mage stepped in front of Alistair who still stood rigid, his harrowed gaze never leaving the king's body.

Just as Zevran was going enquire of her plan, Sten spoke out. "Go," the Qunari stated. "I will stay with the Templar."

"As will I," Wynne added.

Without even turning to look at her companions, Garnet gave a barely conceivable nod before setting off at a run, Cadoc keeping pace beside her. Without thinking, Zevran quickly followed the mage, hardly registering that Leliana and Morrigan were close behind. The quintet raced after the darkspawn necromancer, following the genlock across the deserted ruins and through long abandoned tunnels. Tirelessly, they fought undead corpses and corrupted spiders along the way, until emerging out onto the desolate, snow covered battlefield. A bellowing roar echoed across the expanse, and Zevran watched as emotions quickly flickered across Garnet's face. Shock, fear and apprehension before she finally settled on rage, as her verdant eyes seemed to settle on two blades that were embedded in the Ogre's chest.

"Die!" she all but growled, directing the mostly powerful firestorm Zevran had ever seen at the beast.

Standing aside and guarding the flank was all he, Leliana and Cadoc could do as the warden unleashed spell after spell. Morrigan stepped up beside her fellow mage, and released her own power into the fray. When the last enemy had fallen, including the necromancer, Zevran watched in amazement as the witch squeezed the warden's shoulder in an extremely rare show of emotion, before Garnet staggered towards the Ogre's corpse. The redhead all but collapsed into the snow at it's side. His chest tightened as he noticed how her hands shook when they reached for one of the blades, and before he could register what he was doing, Zevran had crossed the distance and was knelt beside her.

"Cariño?" he whispered, hoping not to startle her from the unnerving reverie she seemed to be in.

"These were Duncan's," Garnet replied, her voice hoarse as she evidently choked back a sob.

Quickly understanding, Zevran captured her trembling hands and raised them to his lips, kissing each in turn, not caring if the other's saw. "Allow me," he offered, though didn't wait for a reply as he swiftly freed the blades from where they were embedded in the Ogre's chest.

Handing the still blood stained weapons to Garnet, he watched silently as she lay the longsword across her lap and unexpectedly cradled the dagger to her chest. "Rest in peace, my friend," she whispered, a single tear escaping from her tightly shut eyes.

"Amell, the wolves most likely got the body. We should return to the others," Morrigan stated, though her tone was not as clipped as it usually was.

Though the reasoning was most likely accurate, Zevran could not help but feel that the witch was being callous, however Garnet remained stoic. Nodding her assent, the warden slowly stood, still gripping the blades tightly. Realising that she was not going to release the weapons without good reason, Zevran hurriedly unbuckled one of the spare belts he wore over his brigandine and fastened it loosely around the mage's hips as a makeshift sword belt, ignoring the knowing look Leliana gave him. Silently, he helped Garnet secure the blades and was rewarded with a sad smile.

"Thank you," she said, briefly touching her hand to his chest before turning to follow the two other women back through the tunnels.

Having cleared the route already, the return journey progressed quickly and soon the five of them were back on the bridge, greeted by the sight of Sten gently lowering the king's frozen body to the floor. "Alistair, are you alright?" Wynne was asking and Zevran had to bite back the urge to scoff. A blind man could clearly see the Templar was not doing well, the dazed and horrified look on his face was visible enough.

Evidently hearing their approaching footsteps, Alistair turned to them. Zevran's stomach gave an unexpected lurch upon seeing the desperate look the Templar gave Garnet. "We need to do something," the man practically pleaded.

"Of course," she soothed, obviously compartmentalising her own grief much to Zevran's chagrin. "We'll do right by him, I promise."

His chest constricted when the warden lay a gentle hand on the Templar's cheek before she went to speak quietly to Sten, who nodded and strode away in the direction of the small copse of woods they had passed. Tearing his eyes away, hoping to hide his scowl, his gaze landed on the deceased king. Quickly, his eyes flitted back to Alistair before resting once again on the corpse. Realisation dawned.

Respectfully, he approached the Templar who stood with his back to him and lay a hand on the man's shoulder. "You're brother, no?" he asked, careful to keep his voice quiet so as not to alert the others to his words.

"How did you…" Alistair began before his shoulders sagged. "Yes. Half-brother, anyway."

Nodding solemnly, Zevran regarded the other man. "You have my condolences, my friend. If you have need, I am at your disposal." And for once, he was completely serious with his intent.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****So, anyone else notice Cailan's body is almost in a crucifix? A little disturbing in my opinion… and I thought it bared mentioning!  
A Brigandine is/was a medieval piece of armour, made of canvas or leather and lined with small oblong steel plates riveted to the fabric. It seems to fit Zevran's armour the closest, so that is why I am using it.  
I could never understand why the developers thought Zevran would disapprove of **_**not**_** leaving Cailan's body as it was, so this is my own remedy to it really. **


	25. Mistaken Affection

**Mistaken Affection **(Amell PoV)

Taking a page from Morrigan's book, Garnet sat a distance away from the camp fire and the others. It had been a mere six hours since they had lit the funeral pyre for King Cailan, three hours since they had made camp and barely a single hour had passed since she had given Alistair Duncan's sword. A sad smile pulled at her lips and her ribs twinged in phantom pain from the memory of the crushing hug the Templar had given her. Red steel armour and physical affection certainly did not mix. With a sigh, Garnet regarded the dagger that sat in her lap before her gaze lifted to the babbling brook she sat beside with a single werelight for company. Even though she had only known Duncan for a short time, the rogue had taken up residence in her heart. She missed his quick wit and hearty laugh.

A warm hand unexpectedly squeezed her shoulder, and turning her head, Garnet found herself looking up at Alistair's smiling face. "Here, look at this," he said, sitting next to her on the improvised log seat. "Do you know what this is?"

Garnet's mouth quirked into a smirk as the Templar gently lay a pressed rose onto her lap next to Duncan's dagger. Gently, she caressed the dried red petals and was surprised they had retained most of their velvety texture, instead of becoming brittle. "Is this a trick question?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, absolutely. I'm trying to trick you. Is it working?" he smiled.

She bit her lower lip in an attempt to hold back a chuckle. "I can just imagine how frightened the darkspawn will be with your new weapon."

Alistair outright laughed. "Exactly," he agreed, gesticulating wildly. "Watch as I thrash our enemies with the might power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will over power you with my rosy scent."

Tears streamed down Garnet's face as she joined in his laughter, and it wasn't until her head fell against his shoulder that she realised Alistair wasn't in his armour, opting for brown woollen trews and a white cotton shirt instead. If she wasn't struggling so much to breath, Garnet might have considered him rather dashing. Instead she wheezed against his shoulder. "Oh Maker!"

"Or, you know, it could just be a rose," he shrugged, jostling Garnet's head before he slipped his arm around her shoulders. "I know that's pretty dull in comparison."

"It's beautiful," Garnet argued, smiling. "Though sentiment can be a pretty potent weapon." She never could help teasing the Templar.

"Is it that easy to see right through me?" Alistair asked, leaning his cheek atop her head. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you are the smartest person I know. I picked it back in Lothering. I remember thinking: 'How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?' I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I've had it ever since."

Nestling herself against his side, Garnet regarded the rose again, idly wondering if Leliana had helped him preserve the flower, as it was in such beautiful condition still. She couldn't help but smile... who would have thought an ex-Templar would be such a romantic. "That's an adorable sentiment."

"I thought that I might… give it to you," he told her quietly, tightening his arm around her. "In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."

Her first instinct was to make a joke_. 'Feeling a little __**thorny**__ are we?'_ was the first thing that came to mind, causing Garnet to roll her eyes at herself. _'I'm picking up some of Zev's habits'_ she realised, her smile widening. "Thank you Alistair, that's a lovely thought," she told him, knowing how earnest her friend was being.

There was a brush of lips against the top of her head. "I'm glad you like it. I was just thinking… here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You've had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden since your Joining, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death, fighting and tragedy."

"Not all tragedy," she interrupted, squeezing his hand. "I got you and the others out of all this. I couldn't ask for better friends."

Alistair gave a hearty chuckle. "You are too kind. I know the rose isn't much, nothing compared to you finding my mother's locket or Duncan's sword, but… I just wanted to let you know how appreciated you are. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this… darkness. I couldn't do this without you."

A sob threatened to escape her, she was so touched by his sweetness. "Of course you could, just not as stylishly," she quipped, fighting back the unexpected tears. "So, are we married now?"

"You won't land me that easily, woman," Alistair laughed. "I know I'm quite the prize after all. No need to start crying on me or anything." How he always knew when she emotional, Garnet couldn't say, but she smiled at him ruefully as he tilted her head to face him and wiped the few escaped tears away. "Now, if we could move on from this awkward stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it."

Laughing outright, Garnet lightly punched his chest. "All right hot stuff, sounds good. Off with this," she goaded, tugging on the collar of his shirt. Garnet knew this was all just banter, she'd seen the way Alistair looked at Leliana after all. Not to mention she was enamoured with Zevran.

The Templar held up his hands in defeat. "Bluff called," he admitted, moving to stand and offering Garnet his hand. "Damn, you saw right through me."

"You're so cute when you're bashful." Garnet punctuated the statement with a pat on the cheek for good measure, earning her a playful scowl. "But at least you're not blushing this time."

"Thank the Maker," he agreed as they walked back towards the camp and it's inviting fire.

Glancing around, Garnet was disappoint that Zevran was nowhere to be seen. "He said he was going to wash up. I suspect he will be back shortly," Leliana stated, giving her a knowing look.

Figuring there was little point trying to deny she was looking for the elf, Garnet smiled at her fellow redhead. "Thanks, Leli."

With that, she retired to her tent pointedly ignoring the disapproving glance Wynne gave her. Deciding she would deal with the older mage, and anything else fate decided to throw at her, after a good long sleep, Garnet began to settle down for the night. However, she barely had time to set down the rose and dagger beside her pack before there was a slight rustle followed by the smell of sandalwood and leather filling the enclosed space.

"Zevran," she greeted, pulling the elf into a welcoming kiss.

"What must the others think?" he chuckled, though it sounded a little forced.

"Is everything okay?" Garnet asked as she pulled away from him slightly, her brow furrowing when he refused to meet her eyes. "Speak to me Zev," she implored, tugging him to sit next to her.

Several heartbeats passed as Zevran simply gazed at the scattering of werelights that illuminated the tent, their ethereal light cast a green glow to his bronze skin. "You and Alistair are close, are you not?" he enquired, his gaze shifting from the lights to the rose. "I am curious to the… nature of your relationship."

For a moment, Garnet wondered if she had heard him right. _'Is he jealous?' _she mused, before shaking her head in disbelief. _'Don't be stupid, this is Zev!'_ Though looking at his face, taking in the tightness of his jaw and the heated look he was giving the poor rose, told a different story. "It isn't what you think," she told him gently, wondering how warped his view of affection and companionship really was.

"Isn't it?" he replied harshly, before letting out a suspiciously sad sounding sigh. "I've watched you and he together. I know a complication when it rears it's head and threatens to bite. You and I have had our fun, but if this thing between you and Alistair is leading somewhere…"

"Zev," Garnet interrupted, cupping his face in her hands, though he stubbornly refused to look at her. "My love," she added, and his eyes snapped to hers. He looked surprised at the term of endearment. "It is not what you think," she repeated. "He's my friend, a very dear one, but my friend none the less."

"Events say otherwise," he argued, sounding tired as he motioned towards the rose. "I will happily step aside. Complication avoided. Everyone's the happier, yes?"

A weary sigh escaped her lips as her hands dropped to her lap_. 'He really doesn't get it'_ she thought. "Is that what you want?" Garnet asked, dreading the answer. Despite her better judgement, she cared about the assassin, much more than a just friend.

"What I want?" Zevran sounded genuinely confused. "If only it was so simple." There was a sadness to his amber eyes that constricted Garnet's chest, she couldn't remember seeing him this way. So vulnerable and earnest. "I make no claims upon you," he continued. "Nor would I dream of such. You are free to pursue your fancies as you desire. I would have it no other way."

Her heart ached for him. Garnet couldn't believe this was her Zev speaking. _'How can he value himself so little?'_ she wondered before nausea hit her. _'Does he think __**I**__ value him so little?'_ Gently caressing his tattooed cheek, Garnet tried a different tactic. "I don't want you to step aside."

Zevran gave a small chuckle. "And I have no burning need to do so, but…"

Fighting the urge to groan in frustration, Garnet kissed him, fiercely. All but straddling his lap in the process. "Listen to me, you infuriating elf," she said looking Zevran straight in the eye. "There is nothing between me and Alistair. Yes we are close, yes I adore him, but as a friend. Nothing more. He is more a brother to me than anything else. It's you I want and if that's not enough to convince you, maybe watch the way he looks at Leliana tomorrow when we break camp." By the end, her chest was heaving from the effort to keep her voice low so the others would not over hear.

For a moment, Zevran merely regarded her before he bowed his head, almost sheepishly. "I am many things, a murderer, a thief, a lover… but I am no cheat. I just… if whatever is between us can't be honest…"

"It _is_ honest," Garnet interjected, smiling kindly, though it hurt a little that Zevran seemed to think she was simply using him. Though with the life he had lived, she supposed it wasn't that surprising. "There is nothing between me and Alistair, or anyone else for that matter. I want you, no question."

"I am glad to hear it," Zevran replied, looking genuinely relieved. "Now, then. Shall we move on to more pleasant topics?" he asked, and Garnet could see his familiar mask slipping back into place, though for once, she would let him hide.

"How about poetry?" she quipped, smiling cheekily before kissing him deeply.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****This chapter stems from some ideas I've had since first playing the game, as I got the 'Jealous Zevran' dialogue even though I hadn't been trying to romance Alistair! Also my headcanon demands the rose was pressed/dried. How else could it have lasted since Alistair can't do magic &amp; it's **_**very**_** unlikely Morrigan would have helped him in anyway. And internet cookies for those who can spot the Mass Effect quote! ;-)**


	26. About a Boy

**About a Boy **(Zevran PoV)

They had spent the past seven days walking from the ruins of Ostagar towards the Brecilian Forest, the chilled wind harrying their progress every step of the way. However, it was a relief to see winter had not yet encroached so far into Thedas, with the last vestibules of autumn clinging resolutely to the tightly packed trees. The wan sun was setting, casting it's pallid light around the smaller than usual camp site. The thicket of trees granting them little room.

As such, the group's tents were tightly packed together, and Zevran knew there was little chance he would be able to sneak into the warden's tent tonight. Part of him scoffed at the thought, Garnet had made it more than clear that she wasn't embarrassed if people knew about them. She had certainly made that perfectly clear during their last night in Redcliffe. Also, the pair had cleared the air regarding her and Alistair, though Zevran still found his fists clenching every time the Templar touched the mage. Which led him to what the rest of him felt, utter confusion. He couldn't understand why seeing the pair together agitated him, why he was so bothered about not spending the night with her. Or why his heart had beat so uncontrollably fast when she had told him that she wanted _him_, no one else.

Unable to contain the ragged sigh that escaped him as he stared into the embers of the camp fire, Zevran earned himself another caustic look from Wynne, something he'd been getting a lot since Redcliffe. He was so weary, he couldn't even muster the effort to throw a witty remark at the older mage, and instead ran a hand down his face as he tried to collect his thoughts. Absent-mindedly, he heard footsteps approaching, but it wasn't until someone appeared in his peripheral did Zevran turn to acknowledge them.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he drank in the sight of the warden clad in only an oversized, white shirt. _His _shirt to be more precise, which barely reached the middle of her porcelain thighs. He watched as she lay out her robes near the fire, evidently setting them out to dry after washing. Zevran could practically feel Wynne's disapproving stare as his smirk turned into a wide grin when Garnet turned to face him.

"My, my... My dear Grey Warden. You are certainly a delectable sight," he flirted unabashed, his eyes perusing her body.

Returning his smile, Garnet rolled her eyes before joining him on the pelt he sat upon. The same pelt she had given him during his first night at camp. To Zevran's amusement, the warden leant her back against his side, stretching her lean legs out in front of her. Chuckling, he shifted his position until they were sitting back to back, her minuscule weight against him was oddly comforting.

"What's your opinion on the Dalish?" Garnet asked, sounding tired.

Her question caught him slightly off guard. He hadn't really given the Dalish any thought, well… not in many years at least. He took a moment to think before answering. "I know little enough of the Dalish, other than my mother was one… or so I am told." Despite his best effort, he couldn't keep the melancholy out of his voice. Though surprisingly, Zevran didn't feel any real need to hide it from the warden. "She had fallen in love with an elven woodcutter and accompanied him back to the city, leaving her clan behind for good. And then, of course, the woodcutter died of some filthy disease and my mother was forced into prostitution to pay off his debts. Oldest tale in the book." Silence followed, and apprehension began to gnaw at him. He always found himself opening up to Garnet, admitting things he had never told another soul, and it always left him feeling vulnerable.

"She must have been very beautiful, to have a son as stunning as you," Garnet replied quietly, and he smiled at her compliment. "Was the woodcutter your father?" Her question sounded hesitant, almost as if she was scared to offend.

Zevran scoffed at the notion. "How should I know?" he replied. "My mother was a whore, as you recall. None of the other elven boys in the whorehouse knew their fathers, I was not so unusual. I didn't know my mother either of course, she died giving birth to me. My first victim as it were…"

He lapsed into silence then, lost to the old guilt and bitter thoughts. Unexpectedly, Garnet moved, sending him suddenly tumbling backwards. Bracing himself for the hard smack of solid earth to the back of his head, Zevran was surprised to find himself blinking up at the warden, his head cradled on her lap. A witty remark was on the tip of his tongue, until he caught the look on her beautiful face.

"Don't even think that!" Garnet scolded in a harsh whisper, caressing his cheek gently.

Quickly shutting his eyes, lest she notice his tumbling emotions, Zevran took a subtle deep breath before allowing himself to relax. "We were all raised communally," he explained. Figuring that he'd gone so far... he may as well tell her the rest. "It was a happy enough existence, ignoring the occasional beating. Until eventually I was sold to the Crows. I brought a good price, so I hear." His eyes remained shut, even when he felt her hand still on cheek.

After a heartbeat, Garnet began stroking his hair, and Zevran was unable to withhold the hum of appreciation. "I'm so sorry, love," she whispered, evident emotion making her sweet voice thick.

Chancing opening his eyes, Zevran smiled up at the warden. "Ah, compassion and beauty both in the same woman. It is a delight, truly." The look she was giving him was so breathtakingly honest and so full of care, his heart stuttered and he had to look away again. "Though, what you say is unnecessary, even if it is appreciated."

"Oh Zev." Garnet's words where more a forlorn sigh than anything else, and not for the first time Zevran wondered why this amazing woman gave him the time of day, at least away from bedroom activities.

"It could have been worse," he assured, convincing himself as much as her. "I shall not tell you about the other whorehouse boys, those who do not fetch a decent price with the Crows." Zevran paused, mulling over his next words. In all the time he had known the warden, he could think of only a handful of times Garnet had ever opened up. It seemed she spent her time consoling or bolstering others. "Surely your life as not been so idyllic either? People like you and I are not the product of happy lives of contentment after all." For some inexplicable reason, Zevran found himself holding his breath as he waited for her reply. He wasn't sure why, but a small part of his brain believed that if she answered, it would mean she truly trusted him. Something that was more important than he'd like to admit.

Garnet gave a short, sad huff of laughter. "You could say that again." Smiling wryly, her nimble fingers continued raking through his, now unbound, hair. "One day, when our surroundings don't have so many ears, I will tell you more about it…"

Sighing, he captured her left hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the pad of each of her fingers. _'It is something at least'_ he thought, accepting he wouldn't get any further explanation. "My original point is that my mother's Dalish nature was always a point of fascination for me. Through all the years of my Crow training, the one thing of my mother's that I possessed was a pair of gloves. They were of Dalish make, I knew that much, and beautiful. I had to keep them hidden, of course, as we were not allowed such things. Eventually, they were discovered and I never saw them again." He decided to leave out the punishment he had received, the beating had rendered him unconscious and the scars from the lashes still marred his back.

"Has there been no joy in your life at all?" Garnet asked, she almost sounded like she was holding back a sob. Looking up at her face, Zevran's heart clenched to see the tell-tale shimmer of tears in her verdant eyes.

'_Why does she care so much?'_ He was honestly confused with the amount of compassion the warden afforded him. He knew he didn't deserve it and the thought left him feeling exposed. "Oh, there have been plenty," Zevran chuckled to mask his discomfort. "To tell the truth, it is because I expected nothing more. Still, eventually even I thought it would be better for me if I ran off to join the famous Dalish when one of their clans drew near Antiva City. Naturally the reality did not live up at all to the fantasies I had constructed as a boy staring at those gloves."

Once again, Zevran thought it prudent not to mention the outcome of his return to the Crows. What would his fearless Grey Warden think if she found out that he still had nightmares about his time spent in the guild's dungeons? Or that he was ever so _slightly_ scared of enclosed, dark spaces, even now?

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****Once again, I wanted to explore/hint at what Zevran's past would have been like with the Crows because, thanks to the Fade dream, I cannot image it was pleasant. I also wanted to portray the changing/deepening relationship between him and Amell, though I'm only a little sorry using the cliché of her wearing his shirt!**


	27. A Dalish Welcome

**A Dalish Welcome **(Amell PoV)

They had risen with the sun. It's weak, early winter rays barely permeating so far into the forest. Despite the majority of the trees having already shed their withered leaves. Garnet stamped her feet to keep warm, her woollen cloak pulled tight around herself, whilst Cadoc whined and panted at her side. His hot breathe morphed into little clouds in the cold air. Eventually, the others emerged from their tents and after a meagre breakfast of jerked meat and hastily thrown together flatbread, they continued their seemingly endless trudge through the Brecilian Forest.

Some weary hours later, their progress was halted by the emergence of three elves, Dalish hunters by the look of them. The party leader, a lithe framed, light-blonde female archer, addressed the group. "Stop right there outsiders. The Dalish are camped in this spot. I suggest you go elsewhere, and quickly."

'_Outsider, better than Shem at least'_ Garnet mused, ignoring the thinly veiled threat and remembering what her friend Surana had taught her about the Dalish back at the tower. _'Hope she wasn't lying to me_' she thought ruefully, her elven friend had enjoyed teasing her after all.

"Atisha. We mean you know harm. We," Garnet gesticulated between herself and Alistair who stood to her right. "Are Grey Wardens, and seek the wisdom of your Keeper."

There was a snort of disbelief from one of the hunters. "I find that hard to believe," the archer stated, yet none of the three Dalish elves drew their weapons. "What business could we Dalish have with a group like yours?"

Garnet didn't miss the scowl that was directed towards Zevran and she fought the irrational urge to step protectively in front of him. Holding back a sigh, she recalled the very meagre advice Surana had given the last time she had seen the elf. "Abelas. Emma isada na Hahren," Garnet quoted her friend's phrase, hoping she wasn't butchering the pronunciation. "Our business must be discussed with your Keeper, and them alone."

To the archer's credit, she only looked mildly surprised a human was talking Elvish. Crossing her arms, the blonde nodded. "Seeing as you are obviously no simple trespasser, I will leave it to the Keeper to decide the importance of your business. In the camp, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself and remember that our arrows are still trained on you. Follow me."

"Ma nuvenin," she smiled, inclining her head in a small nod of respect. As they followed the three Dalish, both Zevran and Alistair approached Garnet, one on either side of her.

"You didn't say you could speak Elvish," the Templar whispered reproachfully.

Where the assassin merely chuckled. "Cariño, you are full of surprises."

"Alistair, you didn't ask. Zev, if you know any more phrases that would be useful here, I'd greatly appreciate them," she replied in a hushed tone. In truth, Surana really hadn't taught Garnet much, learning individual words had been complicated enough, never mind actually sentences.

"Alas, mi querida, my mother may have been Dalish, but you know more of them than I do it seems," Zevran smiled, though there was an odd look in his Amber eyes. Amusement mixed with sorrow.

_"How_ exactly do you know Elvish?" Alistair pressed.

"Along with Jowan and Petra, one of my closet friends in the tower was an elf called Neria Surana. No one knew of her life before she came to the Circle, not even she, yet Neria remember snippets of Elvish and would research the language tirelessly. Since I was the only one that took an interest in her 'hobby', for lack of a better phrase, she taught me a little," Garnet shrugged, trying not to dwell on the fact that she hadn't seen Surana either time she had returned to Kinloch Hold.

"A useful friend to have," the blonde archer interrupted, the elf's keen hearing evidently picking up their quiet conversation, not that Garnet particularly minded.

"No. She was simply a wonderful friend," she corrected, smiling. "Elvish is a beautiful language, just damn hard for a Shem like me learn. It's a wonder she didn't blast me with a fireball for the amount of times I pronounced something wrong."

There was an unexpected huff of laughter from another of the hunters. "You didn't do too badly... for a Shem," he stated, actually sounding halfway impressed.

'_Well, that's a start'_ Garnet realised.

Zevran evident thought the same, as he gave her a reassuring wink when her gaze briefly met his, as they continued to supervene the hunters. The walk was relatively short, seemingly following an old deer track. Though it was more likely that the animal was halla, given the Dalish presence. Throughout the journey, Garnet felt the tell-tale tingle that signalled eyes were watching them, and she supposed other hunters were hidden amongst the trees. They only stopped when a pretty, honey-blonde elf crossed their path. The woman was dressed in similar robes to Garnet, though hers were tinted yellow instead of grey and purple, and the staff she carried brought a smile to Garnet's face.

_'It's good to see another mage, other than Wynne and Morrigan' _she mused.

"Andaran atish'an. Greetings, I am Lanaya, the Keeper's First, and I welcome you to this camp, our home," the elven mage stated.

"Ma serannas," Garnet replied, with a respectful nod earning her a surprised, yet pleased smile from the First.

"The Keeper is unable to meet with you at present, several injuries require his expertise and duties to the clan take president. There is room, close to the halla pen, where you could sent up your tents, as the Keeper promises he will meet with you at first light," Lanaya explained, clasping her hands in front of her.

"I am a healer, if you are need of assistance. As is my companion," she indicated to Wynne who stood patiently to one side.

"You are?" the First asked, eyeing her bow suspiciously.

Smiling, Garnet inhaled deeply before a silver-white aura surrounded her and the group, encompassing the Dalish hunters and Lanaya as well. Perhaps casting Mass Rejuvenation wasn't the most subtle method to showcase her talents, but it certainly got the point across. Taking her cue, Wynne raised her hand above her chest and drew a complicated shape in the air. The ground around them lit with a pale blue glow, as the Glyph of Warding was cast.

The three hunters looked mildly bewildered, yet Lanaya beamed. "Enasal! I'm sure Zathrian will welcome the help, I know I do." With that, the woman grabbed Garnet's hand and pulled her further into the camp, Wynne following quickly behind.

As trio began to wind their way through the clustered aravels, Garnet was sure she could hear Zevran's voice laughing. "The warden never fails to make friends, no?"

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****F****irst up, sorry this is not a strictly Zevran/Amell chapter, but it needed to be done to set up the next few, which unsurprisingly will be set in either the Dalish camp or the Brecilian Forest!  
I'm sure everyone knows, but just in case someone doesn't, Neria Surana is the standard name given to the Elf Mage character origin. Since, regardless of the origin chosen, the other events still happen 'in the background', I figured Surana would be at Kinloch Hold whilst Amell was there. I invoke writer's licence to make them friends!  
The Elvish language/words I use are taken from the DAwiki:  
Abelas. Emma isala na Hahren translates to (I'm) Sorry. I am in need of you Elder.  
Ma nuvenin (Mah noo-VEY-nihn) means as you wish  
Andaran atish'an (ahn-DAHR-ahn ah-TEESH-ahn) is a formal elven greeting  
Ma serannas (Ma SEHR-ahn-ahs) means My thanks  
Enasal (EHN-ah-sahl) means joyful relief**


	28. Old Scars

**Old Scars **(Zevran PoV)

With a sigh, Zevran threw himself down on his bedroll. His clothes already discarded haphazardly near the entrance of his tent. He wasn't entirely sure what was wrong, but being amongst the Dalish was… uncomfortable. It brought back the childish imaginings he'd had of his mother as a boy. It reminded him of the Dalish back in Antiva City, and it conjured the memories he'd tried to repress, from the time the Crows had dragged him back from the Dalish clan he'd run to.

Turning onto his stomach, Zevran propped his forehead against folded arms, his gaze almost trying to burn holes into the flimsy fabric of his thin pillow as he tried to block out the memories. He gave an involuntary shudder, his gut churning as he remembered the sting of the whip lashing his skin. Screwing his eyes shut, Zevran tried to hold back his roiling emotions. Though a tear escaped all the same, much to his disdain. In his mind's eye, he could well picture the dungeon he'd spent a month in. He could easily recall the rancid smell of fear and death, could see the way the dim light bounced off the dagger's blade, could feel the coil of fear and dread as the master walked around his bound form and began dragging the biting steel down his back.

Zevran slammed his palm into the ground beside his bedroll. It sickened him, that even after all these years, the memories still haunted him. He knew he still bared the scars on his back, why did he have to bare them in his head as well? He didn't even have Garnet's comforting presences, for she had yet to return from helping the clan, despite Wynne returning hours ago. He frowned at his errant thought, struggling to recall when he had come to rely on her company to ease the troubles of his mind. She didn't even need to say anything, just be there. It was a disconcerting thought. Worrying though it was, at least it was Garnet that occupied his mind, rather than memories of the Crows, as he drifted off into fitful sleep…

Jolting awake, Zevran's whole body tensed. Someone was in the tent with him, and they were close by. Training took over as his breathing remained steady, hopefully fooling the intruder that he was still asleep. Whilst his left hand slowly slid towards the small puñal dagger, that was hidden beneath his pillow.

"Zev, are you awake?" a gentle voice whispered and he felt himself begin to relax. "I heard a… noise, and wanted to see if you were okay," Garnet explained as she knelt beside him.

A sardonic smile twitched his lips. 'Noise', that was a very kind way for the warden to tell him he'd been whimpering in his sleep, for that's what he knew she meant. Zevran easily recalled the nightmare, or more the memory, he'd been having. It was a small wonder that he hadn't been screaming and awoken the entire camp. He was about to roll over and tug her down to join him. Until he felt the dreadful feeling of Garnet's soft, warm palm gently touch his back, directly between his shoulder blades. Zevran's blood froze. He'd been so careful to not let the warden see his back during their travels, even managing to stop her touching during their intimate moments… mostly by either holding her hands or simply pinning her wrists above her head. There was only his one slip up in Redcliffe, where Garnet thankfully hadn't mentioned anything. She had probably been too tired to really register them that morning, but Zevran knew he wouldn't be so lucky this time. Dread had gripped him then, where he'd had a means of escape, but this was worse. Much worse.

It was a small mercy, as far as Zevran was concerned, that is was so dark inside his tent and that the warden had thankfully not conjured a werelight. That at least meant she wasn't able to see the myriad of silvery scars that littered his back from his countless whippings. However, she would easily be able to feel the ugly, raised scars from poison tinged daggers. Those had been inflicted with the sole purpose to remind him that he was worth nothing, was nothing. Nothing more than damaged goods, and now Garnet would know. She'd realise he was nothing more than an elven whoreson, and be repulsed that she'd deigned to let him be her lover for as long as she had. Zevran knew he'd lose her friendship as well, because why the Maker would she want to be associated with such a broken, worthless being such as himself.

Swallowing past the lump that was forming in his throat was becoming difficult, especially when he heard Garnet give a faint, shocked gasp. Zevran wanted to lash out, to snap at her, demand if she was gaining some perverse enjoyment as her fingers lightly ghosted along the length of that scar. He was about to do just that, before he felt her lean forward, and place a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades, followed by another. It took Zevran a heartbeat to realise what she was doing, and it both sickened and amazed him. Garnet was kissing down the length of the scar, almost as if it was something to be honoured or adored.

Instinctively he tensed when her fingertips found another raised scar, one that snaked it's way from his tailbone towards his ribs on the right hand side. That one was given in punishment for turning down a master's advances when he'd barely turned sixteen. It wasn't the only punishment he'd received that day, but the only one the left a physical scar. As before, Garnet's soft lips followed her finger's path, and as much as Zevran wanted to push her away from him, to stop her affecting him so much and confusing him, he found he couldn't. Though it scared him to admit it, he found her ministrations… soothing, comforting even. For the life of him, he didn't know why.

"I always knew you were a strong man, Zevran Arainai," Garnet whispered, her warm breath caressing his cool skin. "I just never realised just how resilient you are. You're a marvel." To Zevran's surprise, the warden actually sounded impressed, though perhaps proud was a better description if he thought about it.

His brow furrowed in confusion. This wasn't how it should be. The scars were a reminder, a testament to his worthlessness, he'd been told time and again that they would let worthwhile people like the warden know how broken he was. Something to just use then discard. Zevran opened his mouth to demand her to explain what she meant, but to his disgust only a strangled sob emerged as Garnet found another scar, one that curved the length of the fifth rib on his left side. He'd earn that when he'd stopped a senior Crow forcing himself on a young, human girl who was being held captive as leverage against her magistrate father.

Somehow, Garnet managed to understand he was wanting an explanation. "These are not from fights," she stated resolutely as she kissed the third scar. It was certainly not a question, and Zevran simply knew she had guessed the likely cause. "I cannot imagine…" Her soft voice wavered, and he snapped back to reality. The warden wasn't doing this because she cared, she merely felt sorry for him.

"I do not want your pity," he practically growled, quickly sitting up and in the process pushing Garnet way from him.

"Is that what you think?!" she demanded in a hiss. She sounded hurt, surprised and offended. The air around them crackled with the warden's barely concealed power, and the tent was briefly illuminated by the glow of summoned fire.

In that moment, Zevran caught a glimpse of her face, and his anger was quickly extinguished. Even though the warden was regarding him with tear filled eyes, the only look he could see was one of affection and respect. His gaze dropped to the floor, ashamed by his accusation, yet words once again seemed to fail him.

"I know you do not want my pity, and what's more, you don't need it," Garnet stated, her tone was kinder though no less forceful. Gently, she cupped his face. "Why would someone as tenacious, capable and courageous as you, need pity? I won't lie, it _hurts_ to know someone harmed you, even if I didn't know you at the time. But I promise you, I will turn them into chargrilled Crows if they ever cross our path."

That caused him to chuckle, despite his surprise that she was so incensed by the knowledge. In truth, Garnet's reaction was throwing him more off kilter than the fact she'd discovered the scars in the first place. "Ah Cariño, the past is the past, no?" Zevran tried to dismiss, desperately trying to gather his customary bravado as a shield.

"No," the warden replied, quietly but firmly. "It's obvious they bother you, and one day you may tell me why. Until then, just know that I certainly don't think less of you for them. What I feel is far from pity, Zev. Though, in case you're struggling to understand…"

Without warning, Garnet's lips crashed into his. It wasn't like one of their usual kisses, one that would start off gentle and build into heated passion. This one was fiercely intense from the start, and forced Zevran onto his back where he pulled the red haired mage into his arms, not breaking their kiss, though she didn't linger long. Abruptly, the warden stood up, and just as he was about to question her, she began to hastily disrobe.

As quickly as she had departed, Garnet was back in his arms, pressing her lithe body against his. He couldn't help but groan in pleasure as her agile tongue licked up the tapered curve of his left ear, fully igniting his arousal. Since she was straddle across his thighs, Zevran gave her a teasing caress and was pleasantly surprised to find she was not only willing, but more than ready. His confident smirk was back in place as the tip of him nudge the velvet warmth of her. However, he halted his movement, search for her eyes in the darkness, looking for her consent. The minx surprised him though, by deftly sliding down his length, leaving them both moaning in unabashed enjoyment from the sensation.

An idle thought crossed Zevran's mind at that moment, vaguely realising that Wynne's tent was pitched close to his. However, conscious thought was soon eradicated as Garnet rocked her hips, and forced him to pant his appreciation of the action. Before they quickly lost themselves to the ancient rhythm.

…...

**Author's Note  
****So a bit of a hurt/comfort chapter for our dear Zevran, as I really want to explore his past and the other aspects of his personality, as well as some of my own headcannon! And let's face it, Zevran's going to appreciate/understand a sexual gesture much more than a sweet, romantic one. For those who would like to know, a puñal (literally dagger in Spanish) is also known as a gunong and is used as a utility knife and as a thrusting weapon used for close quarter fighting, usually as a last defence.**


	29. Tell it Like it Is

**Tell it Like it Is **(Amell PoV)

Sleep had not come easy for Garnet, nor had it lulled her for very long either. Though for once, she did not mind. She had rested well enough, her limbs entwined with Zevran's as he slept peacefully. Garnet had spent the last half hour propped up on an elbow, stroking his soft locks whilst admiring his handsome face, a single werelight casting a dim light about the tent. In that time, as the dawn chorus began to stir, Garnet had come to the realisation she had started to fall for her Antivan assassin. Not that she had any intention of telling him. For Garnet truly suspecting that Zevran would run a mile out of fear if she did. And that didn't even take into account what had happened the night before, an event she was still trying to wrap her head around.

"See something you like?" Zevran suddenly asked, pulling Garnet from her thoughts. His voice was thick with sleep, making his accent stronger than usual.

Garnet chuckled, he hadn't even opened his eyes yet. "More than," she whispered softly against his sensitive ear.

She then gave the lobe a gentle, playful nip. And even though she knew that time was of the essence, if she were to meet Zathrian on time, Garnet kissed a trail down his neck. Her ministrations moved down his toned chest and defined abdomen. Feeling devilish, she gave a teasing lick to a very alert part of him, before quickly moving out of Zevran's reach.

"You are too cruel, my dear Grey Warden," he chastised as he sat up, though his tone was teasing.

As the chirping dawn chorus grew louder, she dressed quickly, knowing she'd have to sprint to get to the meeting promptly. Still, she spared time to give Zevran a chaste kiss. "And you are too tempting. Hopefully, I'll be back for breakfast."

It was only after she noticed his smirk that Garnet realised how that sounded, especially to someone with a dirty mind, like Zevran. Instead of bothering to correct herself, she gave him a cheeky wink before slipping out of his tent, opting to leave her bow behind. Without even having to whistle, Cadoc was at her side, and the two set off at a run. Though it turned out she needn't have bothered, for she arrived at the camp's fire pit long before anyone else had even stirred. A chilling mist swirled around the Dalish camp, and Garnet pulled her cloak around her trying to conserve heat. Kneeling next to the fire, she coaxed the dying embers back into life with a small spell, before settling into Cadoc's side for warmth.

Judging by the growing light, Garnet waited a long thirty minutes before the Keeper finally appeared, dressed in nothing but his long grey robes. Obviously he had intend on the delay, if the look on his face was any indication. It had been evident yesterday, whilst she and Wynne had helped to heal the injured Dalish, that Zathrian was far from thrilled to have 'Shems' helping him. It was only for Lanaya's sake that Garnet had held her tongue then. Now, with a look that could almost be a smirk on his face, she could have happily punched him. It was only her respect for the Keeper's First, and oddly enough her respect for Zevran, that stopped her doing so.

"Now, as there was no time yesterday, allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Zathrian, the Keeper of this clan. It's guide and preserver of our ancient law. And you are…?" the elf stated, once he had reached the camp fire.

Dusting herself off as she rose, mostly to try reign in the urge to roll her eyes or reply with a scathing comment, Garnet plastered the most sincere smile she could muster onto her face. "My name is Garnet, Circle Mage and Grey Warden. It is a pleasure to _properly_ meet you."

"Manners… from a Shemlen?" Zathrian replied, sounding genuinely puzzled. "Interesting. What might be your mission here? With such an… eclectic group of travelling companions." Garnet's eyes followed the Keeper's line of sight, falling fully on Zevran as he began to walk towards them. "I imagine you are here, regarding the treaties we signed, centuries ago," Zathrian continued. "Unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to the promise we made. You have seen for yourself how my clan currently fairs, we will not be able to uphold our obligations. I am truly sorry."

"Indeed. Ir abelas, Hahren," Garnet said respectfully, only feeling slightly smug at the shocked expression that flitted across Zathrian's face. "Though, is there no way to help your clan? Yesterday, there was some mention of Werewolves..."

"Ah, Cariño. You are about to volunteer our services for another impossible task, no?" Zevran 'greeted' as he reached the camp fire.

Unexpectedly, he slipped an arm loosely around her shoulders, yet Garnet instinctively shifted her weight so she was leaning slightly into him. It was hardly a flamboyant gesture, or even remotely intimate, just one that was friendly and comfortable. However, the Keeper looked positively scandalised, as did the other Dalish that were now milling about the camp. Choosing to ignore the glares, Garnet smiled at her companion.

"Was there any doubt?" she asked, before turning her attention back to Zathrian. "We will gladly help were we can, though if we are to track down your Werewolves, we will need at least a rough map and perhaps some supplies."

"Of course. I will have Mithra ready them shortly, and I am sure Varathorn will be willing to barter with you," the Keeper replied.

"Ma Serannas," Garnet replied, nodding respectfully to the elder elf, then caught Zevran's eye. "Go and prepare. And get Morrigan and Leliana to do so as well, we will set out as soon as we have the maps."

Kissing the back of Garnet's hand, Zevran grinned. "Scouting with three beautiful ladies, you spoil me, mi querida."

Idly, she admired his physique as he jogged back to their part of the camp, only to have Zathrian disturb her thoughts. "I find your… relationship surprising," the Keeper stated, coolly. "Though I must wonder it's true nature."

Warning bells sound in the back of her mind as she regarded the elder elf. "You mean Zevran and myself?" she asked, receiving a terse nod in response.

In truth, Garnet had expected something along this line the moment they had encountered the hunters, yet that did little to ease her annoyance at the Keeper's self-righteous tone.

"I would say first and foremost, he is a dear and trusted friend, though that would be a small lie," she explained calmly, settling back on her right hip. "Firstly, Zevran was an assassin that was hired by Loghain to kill myself and my fellow warden. Then, I spared his life and _he_ asked to join our mission in return for protection from his former guild, obviously I accepted." She paused, letting that sink in for a moment and couldn't help but smirk at Zathrian's surprised expression. "Soon we became friends and now we are lovers, not that _that_ is any of your concern or business." When the Keeper went to speak, Garnet held up her hand. "Being a mage, I am certainly used to other people's disdain, so I do not find it surprising to find it here amongst your clan. I well know what you were trying to imply, but you are greatly mistaken _Hahren_. I do not think Zevran lesser than myself, nor am I using him to simply satisfy my own needs. I respect, trust and care for him and I couldn't give a damn about what anyone else thinks."

With that, Garnet turned on her heel, trying to hide the smirk that pulled at her lips at seeing the Keeper utterly speechless, and set off to find Varathorn. As she went, Garnet noticed Leliana leaning on a nearby tree and caught the bard's eye.

"You repeat any of that to Zev and I'll give your shoes to Cadoc to use as chew toys," she threatened, smiling.

"Perish the thought," Leliana chuckled, linking her arm through Garnet's as they went.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****If you cannot tell, there will be a fair few chapters set in the Brecilian Forest, which will of course include the Dalish gloves!****  
****Ir abelas, Hahren translates to (I'm) very sorry, Elder. See DAwiki, Elven Language.****  
****Ma Serannas (SEHR-ah-nahs) means I'm grateful**


	30. A Dressing Down

**A Dressing Down **(Zevran PoV)

Slipping back into his tent, Zevran grabbed one of his many vials of poison, along with Garnet's quiver and bow that were still lying where she had discarded them last night. Idly, he wondered what must the others think... as he was sure that even the likes of Alistair must have noticed that his friendship with the warden was not strictly platonic anymore. Shrugging the thought away, Zevran stepped back out into the crisp morning, intending to sit by the fire whilst he waited for the warden and Leliana to return. He had decided to us the time productively, using it to coat Garnet's arrows to give her an extra advantage in any upcoming fights. However, the sound of Wynne's distant voice caught his attention. Quietly, Zevran crept through the sparse trees that bordered one side of their camp site, until he was perched on a rocky ledge. His view point overlooked the large pond, that inhabited at least a quarter of the Dalish clearing. When he noticed it was Garnet that Wynne was speaking to, Zevran was propelled by an unknown compulsion to leave them in privacy. Until he caught the elder mage's words.

"You're quite taken with each other, aren't you?" The tone was quite pleasant, yet Zevran couldn't shake the feeling it was an accusation.

From his perch, Zevran watched as Garnet briefly knelt to fill her water skin, admiring her natural grace as she moved. Her silence whilst preforming the small task led him to wonder if the warden was actually going to answer the older women, and what that would mean for the pair of them. Then again, Wynne might not even be speaking about him. Hadn't he made the assumption there was something between the two wardens, maybe Wynne had done the same, or perhaps it was some else entirely? Leliana perhaps? As the two women were awfully close… not that _that_ wasn't a pleasant image. However, before Zevran's mind could start to fully wander down that path, Garnet's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"You mean Zevran and me?" she asked blatantly, her head tilted slightly to the side making her red hair fall over one shoulder alluringly.

"I almost wish I didn't," Wynne replied, her posture stiffening into a stance that Zevran thought simply screamed 'angry tutor', though that was probably fitting, since she had been a healing instructor after all. "Half of us aren't getting any sleep, the way you two carry on at night."

Annoyance bubbled up in him as he narrowed his eyes at the scene in front of him. Quite frankly, he felt incensed. Due to Garnet's concern for the others, the pair of them had not spent a night together whilst at camp. Only the previous one was an exception, and Zevran was damned sure they had not been loud. In fact, he was adamant about it, for he spent part of the night amazed that the warden had been so quiet, especially when he lavished her with attention that usually made her moan with abandonment. With this in mind, Zevran was certain that Wynne's comment was meant to provoke and would upset Garnet deeply, as she always put others first. Something that he had long decided was an extreme fault of hers, even if it was endearing. However, the warden simply shifted her weight to one hip and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm very sorry for that Wynne. We'll try and keep it down next time." She had replied so deadpan that Zevran found himself stifling a chuckle.

"That's… kind of you…I suppose," the grey haired mage stuttered in reply, further adding to his enjoyment. "Anyway, I noticed your blossoming relationship, and wanted to ask where you thought it was going."

Just like that, Zevran's good mood vanished. He sat tense, waiting for the warden's reply whilst trying to convince himself it was no big deal. They were friends, yes? Friends that had sex, and enjoyed each other's company a great deal, and had become each other's confidant… The tightness in his chest when he looked at Garnet, the way her smile and laughter lit up his day, the fact that he missed her company when they weren't together… None of that meant anything, not at all. Yet, even with these reassurances, Zevran desperately wanted to know Garnet's opinion. Though before she could answer, Wynne was speaking again.

"He seems to only have one thing on his mind," the older mage said, disapproval evident in her voice. "I question the wisdom of a Grey Warden being involved in such an affair."

Swallowing thickly passed the lump that wanted to form in his throat, Zevran couldn't even find it in himself to be angered by Wynne's words. He had always known that he was not good enough for Garnet. Having someone else point out her error of judgement, was simply going to hurry the arrival of the warden's own realisation. A realisation that Zevran had been sure Garnet would reach someday soon, anyway. If that knowledge hurt, well… such is life. If he had turned away a moment sooner, Zevran would have missed the slight tensing of Garnet's jaw, and the way her eyes seemed to flash a more vibrant green before she clenched her fists by her sides. It was more than evident that the warden was trying to hold her temper, however her words were an utter surprise to him.

"How dare you?!" she demanded, her usually soft voice terse with holding back emotion. "How dare you judge him?!"

"You are a Grey Warden. You have responsibilities that supersede your personal desires," Wynne stated harshly.

Garnet gave a short bark of laughter, and Zevran swore he saw a brief flash a flame as she did. "You seek to tell me my duties?" she asked incredulously, her voice raising in volume for the first time since he had known her. "You may have more years of experience when it comes to being a mage, Wynne, but you do not know the first thing about being a Warden. The only other person in all of Ferelden who does is Alistair, who decided to defer to me and my decisions despite being the senior warden. It would not be unrealistic to say the weight of at least the country is on my shoulders, if not more. Through everything, I have done the best with what I have. I have never been too proud or too stubborn to listen or seek out advice or guidance regarding a mission, and I have _never_ failed in my duty as a Grey Warden. However, I am also a human being. A real person with actual emotions and most of the time, it seems only Zevran gives a damn about that fact!" Her last sentence was delivered with a positive shout, earning the attention of everyone else in camp. Everyone bar Leliana that was, who was conspicuously missing, not that Zevran paid that fact much heed. Not with the scene unfolding in front of him.

"Child, you must understand," Wynne started, exasperation evident in her tone. The way she addressed the warden alone made Zevran bristle on Garnet's before, for she was certainly no child. "Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish."

Love. That was a big word, and one that scared Zevran half to death. A word for an emotion that he didn't believe in, at least not for himself. An emotion he highly doubting Garnet felt for him…

"Love?" Garnet practically scoffed.

That single word and her tone of voice, constricted Zevran's chest in a way he didn't think possible. A sinking feeling settled in his gut, though he still couldn't fathom why. He and Garnet were merely friends, friends with some delectable benefits, but that was all. Love... that was something else...

"What do you know about love Wynne?" the warden continued. "That may sound awfully presumptuous, but no more so than you are being. You don't know me, and you are making that abundantly clear. You may have lived in the tower as well, but other than a few meetings with Irving, I never saw you. And during the months we have travelled… our conversations have involved you lecturing me on different aspects of magic or history. So if, in all this time, you don't know me… how the damn do you think to know Zev? When the only time you speak to him is to deride him, to try and make him feel bad for the person he is."

'_Ah'_ Zevran thought, wholly eloquently. It seemed the warden had overheard his interactions with Wynne over the past several weeks. Even though he had always turned them into a joke, brushing off the elder mage's comments with insolent banter, it didn't mean he wasn't angered or offended with Wynne's opinion. It seemed that Garnet was as well.

"What gives you the right to act so high and mighty, to look down your nose at others?" she demanded, her words becoming a tirade. "You look down on Morrigan for being an apostate, you look down on Zevran for simply being who he is. You look down on me for accepting others as they are. Damn it, you look down on Cadoc for being a war dog for Maker's sake, demanding he be bathed like he's a lapdog!"

At that moment, the mabari barked, almost as if agreeing with his mistress' sentiment. Casting his gaze about the others, Zevran noticed that the witch stood with her arms folded across her chest and a smirk tugging at her mouth. Despite the topic of conversation... and he used that phrase loosely, Zevran was actually enjoying watching Garnet lose her temper for a change.

"But I digress," the warden said, her mouth quirking up at one side. Though with the furious gleam in her eyes, it looked more like a threat than a smile. "You mentioned love, and I have to laugh at your notion of it. I have not once said I am in love with Zev, we are two consenting adults who enjoy each other's company."

Shutting his eyes, Zevran tried to control the inexplicable emotion that came from hearing those words. It confused him, the sadness he felt, for hadn't he just been thinking the same thing?

"We have not known each other long enough to able to call any affection between us, love. However," Garnet continued. "I care for him, a great deal and I trust him. Not only with my life, but with my sanity. Without him, _exactly_ the way he is, I am sure I would have cracked under all the pressure."

The hurt that he had unexpectedly felt, vanished. Only to be replaced by a strange mix of pride and humbleness. Zevran smiled at her words. He could admit, he cared for her too... which wasn't as scary as he would once have expected, and he certainly trusted her. Last night had solidified that for him, her defence of him today only strengthened his opinion.

"Perhaps, if you took the time to _actually_ get to know him, instead of judging him or assuming things about him, you might understand," the warden stated. "And that goes for your attitude towards everyone else as well."

With that, Garnet turned on her heel and stalked away from Wynne, leaving their spectators in shock. Well, Alistair and Bodahn looked shock. Morrigan looked pleased, Sten seemed indifferent and Sandal didn't seem to understand what had happened. Only Cadoc followed the warden, trotting after her with a happy yap. Leliana chose that moment to reappear, though not down by the pond with the others, but directly by his side. The only thing that stopped Zevran from flinching in surprise was his years of training.

"Very good, my dear bard," he greeted with a smirk.

His fellow rogue merely returned a sweet smile. "You are aware, that is not the first time she has defended you or your relationship, no?" Leliana stated, causing Zevran to raise an eyebrow in question. "Her meeting, with the Keeper, ended much the same way. She does truly care for you Zevran. Though if she finds out you heard anything from me, you will owe me new shoes, yes?"

* * *

**Author's Note  
****As I'm sure I've made clear, Wynne's opinion regarding the warden's &amp; Zev's relationship sorely irked me. I debated &amp; played about a lot with how I thought this would go, in the end… this is what happened! Don't get me wrong, on the whole I like Wynne, but her 'better than thou' nature really riles me!**


	31. A Copper for Your Thoughts

**A Copper for Your Thoughts **(Amell PoV)

Sitting crossed legged on the soft ground, clad in borrowed brown leggings and a russet tunic, courtesy of Lanaya, Garnet gave a weary sigh. The thick smoke from the herbal fire made her eyes water. Yet the curious resin that had been added to the kindling by the Keeper's First, was fragrant enough. A hoarse cough caught her attention. Shifting to kneel beside the cot she had taken up vigil by, for the better part of three hours, Garnet held a bottle of health potion to the elf's parched lips.

"Rest, Deygan," she soothed as the hunter tried to speak. Gently, Garnet stroked his fevered brow with a damp cloth, helping him to ease back into sleep before lapsing back into her own thoughts.

It had been a long day, and only the western part of the Brecilian Forest had been scouted. It would take another gruelling day to traverse the eastern side. But at least Mithra had been kind enough to teach them how to mark their path, in a way that wouldn't be disturbed by the local floral or fauna. That meant they could head straight for the intersection at day break. Which was a small mercy, given that they had bumbled around like lost nugs today, though perhaps that had not been such a bad thing... Since they had managed to find the ironbark for Varathorn, and taking the wrong path had led them to where Deygan had lay, all but dying, in the dirt. However, they had also encountered a talking tree who called itself the Grand Oak, as well as encountering a talking werewolf, apparently named Swiftrunner.

'_Shame he wasn't as happy to __**just**__ talk as the tree had been'_ Garnet thought ruefully, a sardonic smile twitching the corner of her mouth.

The whole mess the Dalish found themselves in seemed _off_ to her. The fact Zathrian failed to mention that the werewolves were not mindless beasts, only added to the fact. And Swiftrunner hadn't been mindless. Aggressive, yes. Single-minded, certainly. But definitely not mindless, and Garnet couldn't help the feeling that she wasn't being told the whole truth, which put her on edge. She didn't like putting her friends in unnecessary danger, and yet, since bring Deygan back to the Dalish camp, the elves had been nothing but open and helpful. Well, all except their Keeper who had secluded himself away in his aravel.

"A copper for your thoughts, that's what you human's say, isn't it?" a sweet voice asked from the other side of the fire.

Looking up, Garnet smiled easily at Lanaya. "It is, but there's nothing much to tell. Just trying to plan out tomorrow in my head and hoping we come out of it unscathed."

It wasn't a complete lie, and she figured it sounded a lot more reasonable than: You're Keeper is a liar, and if his lies gets one of my friends hurt, I will have his head on a platter. That... and Garnet genuinely like Lanaya. Whatever Zathrian wasn't telling them, it wasn't the woman's fault.

"You care a great deal," the elf stated, returning her smile as she came to sit next to her.

It was only then that Garnet noticed that Lanaya carried a small package, bound in what appeared to be thin birch bark, tied with some sort of vine. Her curiosity must have been evident, for the other woman chuckled.

"Here, before I forget," Lanaya said. "Varathorn asked me to give it to you, said he hoped you'd forgive him but he forgot he had these and to take them as part of the payment for the ironbark, along with the bow he's crafting for you."

Garnet's brow furrowed as she took the small package and carefully unwrapped it. Unexpected tears of appreciation welled up in her eyes. _'When did I become so emotional?'_ she wondered, slightly annoyed at herself, as she carefully ran a bare fingertip across the soft, warm brown leather. If he had been here, Garnet would have hugged Varathorn. _'Dear, sweet man'_

"They are excellent quality, as I'm sure you're aware. Though seem a little large for you," Lanaya stated. Her expression and tone was neutral, but an intrigued glint was in her eyes.

Smiling wryly, Garnet shrugged. "They're for a gift. When I went to barter with Varathorn before we set out, I enquired if he had any Dalish made gloves that would fit a man. He told me he only had ones to fit a woman, and as tempted as I was…"

"The gift was more important," the elf concluded. "They are for your Zevran, are they not?" At that, Garnet raised an eyebrow, causing Lanaya to laugh. "The whole camp has heard of your… conversation with Zathrian. And a few of us, including the Keeper, have caught wind of the _disagreement _with your elder mage as well. It is unusual for a human and an elf to become friends, let alone for a human to defend an elf so vehemently."

"It's stupid and disgusting," Garnet practically snarled. "How Maker damned blind does someone need to be, not to realise that elves are equal to humans?! It's more absurd than the powers that be demanding mage's be locked up, like we are animals," she stated, gesticulating angrily. "And if you hadn't guessed, I'm rather opinionated on both subjects." Flashing her new friend a wry smile, Garnet set about retying the package that still sat in her lap.

"So it seems, falon," Lanaya grinned. "But we have more important things to do tonight than put Thedas to rights. You have an important package to deliver, and I will take my turn watching over Deygan."

Squeezing the elf's hand in thanks, Garnet stood to brush off her borrowed clothes. "If you need any help…" she began, only to be cut off.

"I think you will be too busy to come to my aid tonight," Lanaya chuckled, giving her a knowing look.

'_She's as bad as Leliana!'_ Smiling, Garnet shook her head and set off towards the camp's main clearing. The sun had already set, and a indigo haze rose above the treeline. Shadows had begun to creep along the ground, cast by the large camp fire that dominated the more populated part of the clearing. Idly, Garnet wondered if she would find Zevran there, only to be halted in her thoughts and tracks as a pair of strong arms encircled her waist. The welcome smell of sandalwood washed over her, as warm lips caressed the side of her neck.

"Cariño," Zevran whispered next to her ear, his accented voice never failing to send a pleasant shiver down her spine. "A moment of your time, if I may."

* * *

**Author's Note  
****So, this is my take on 'acquiring' the Dalish Gloves to give to Zevran. I know it's not a strictly Zevran/Amell chapter, but it was in my head and I wanted to explore Lanaya a little &amp; the fact she is rather accepting of human compared to most other elves. Other than that:  
The Curious Resin mentioned is an ingredient that goes into Incense of Awareness, I thought it would be a useful thing to burn near a sickbed set in a forest.  
Falon (fah-LOHN) – elven word meaning friend.  
Deygan is the Dalish hunter you encounter during Wounded in the Woods.**


	32. The Gift of Distraction

**The Gift of Distraction **(Zevran PoV)

"Gloves? You're giving me gloves? What for?" Zevran demanded.

He hoped Garnet didn't notice the way his hands trembled as he held the gloves. This… gift. A gift that _she_ had given _him_. Why had she given him gloves? And why was his heart beating so fast? The wolf pelt had been confusing enough, though Zevran had managed to convince himself it was a gesture born of necessity. This… this most certainly was not. For his current pair had not even been damaged, not in the slightest, and this new pair had even been _wrapped_. Lacking the knowledge of what he was supposed to _do_ upon receiving a gift, Zevran desperately tried to figure out how they had gotten into the situation in the first place.

Just hours ago they had returned from scouting the western side of the Brecilian Forest, a wounded hunter supported between himself and Leliana. Morrigan maintaining a protective barrier around them, whilst Garnet tried to heal the Dalish elf as they walked. The moment they arrived back at the camp, the warden had been whisked away somewhere by the clan's First. And according to Alistair, Garnet had then spent several hours beside the sickbed of the recovering hunter. Which really came as little surprise, given her kind and caring nature. Something Zevran was certain would get her killed one day.

He, for the most part, had spent that time tending his daggers. Chatting amicably with Leliana, as they sat by the Dalish camp fire, listening to Sarel spin several tales. But when the sun had begun to set, Zevran had grown concerned about Garnet's prolonged absence. Not that he would ever admit that was what caused of him to go looking for her, should anyone have asked, which they thankfully didn't.

Once he had located Garnet, it had been second nature to wrap his arms around her waist, and pull her close. A part of him had worried at the implications of that, but he had pushed those thoughts aside... as usual. They had walked, hands loosely clasped, towards their own small camp site with a few dancing werelights guiding their feet. They had ignored the contemptuous glare from Wynne, and a furiously blushing Alistair, choosing to make their way to the warden's tent without preamble. However, Zevran had barely managed to steal a kiss from her plush red lips, before Garnet had handed him the seemingly innocent package.

"They're Dalish gloves," she said, her soft voice interrupted his thoughts. "Like your mother's."

His gaze snapped to her face, sure he would see a mocking sneer to belie the gentle tone of her words, because this was surely some kind of cruel joke. A malicious act meant to shame him somehow. Yet all he saw was a slightly shy smile and Garnet's brow slightly furrowed, not in anger but in concern. For all intents and purposes, the warden looked nervous, and perhaps slightly bashful. It was so unexpected and charming, that Zevran's distrust melted away instantly.

"Maker's breath," he whispered, finding himself humbled by the woman sat beside him.

Hoping to hide his own embarrassment, Zevran's gaze fell to the gloves and he began giving them closer inspection. The tent was suddenly illuminated by a dozen more werelights, enabling him to appreciate the craftsmanship better. A smile tugged at his lips at Garnet's thoughtfulness, feeling guilty that he had been suspicious of her, and had doubted her intentions.

"They are like my mother's," Zevran agreed, carefully tracing the knotwork that had been stitched into the hide. "The leather was less thick, and they had more embroidery, but these are very close," he enthused, slipping them on. "And quite handsome."

"Just like the elf they belong too," Garnet smiled, leaning over and placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "You're welcome, by the way," she added, chuckling.

"Do I see surprised? Perhaps I am," he admitted.

Zevran kept his tone jovial, despite rapid beating of his heart, and the knots trying to tie themselves in his gut. This was so far out of his comfort zone, Zevran didn't think he could find an even footing, even if he tried. Though he knew he was supposed to do something in this situation, and more importantly he actually _wanted _to. Swallowing thickly, he took hold of Garnet's hands in his.

"I appreciate the fact you even thought of me," he tried to explain. "No one has simply… given me a gift before. Thank you."

A brief look of surprise flitted across the warden's face, before she gave him a smile that was positively radiant. "I'm glad you like them. Though you did have me worried for a moment."

"Oh? Then I must apologise. How can I make it up to you Cariño?" Zevran grinned wickedly, determined to steer the conversation in a more familiar direction.

Garnet's vivid green eyes noticeably darkened as she chuckled seductively. "You're the great Zevran Arainai, are you not?" she purred, gripping the collar of his tunic and pulling him closer. "I'm sure you can think of something," she murmured against his lips.

"Yo más bien lo pueden," Zevran assured, leaning his weight forward and effectively pushing Garnet to lay back on the furs that lined the floor of her tent.

For a heartbeat, he held himself above her. Simply admiring her beauty. Her tousled red hair splayed around her head like a fiery halo. The faint shine of green beneath her half-closed lids. And most of all, her berry red lips that just begged to be kissed. His arousal grew for her, as he watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips. Without warning, Garnet leant upwards, deftly running her tongue along the tapered curve of his right ear. Involuntarily, he moan in pleasure, eliciting a sultry chuckle from the warden.

"Mi tentadora," Zevran growled softly, reaching to tangle his fingers in her unruly locks.

"My assassin," she replied, looking up at him through her lashes as her arms snaked around his neck.

No matter how many times he heard Garnet call him _hers_, it always left Zevran feeling just a little breathless. It made his heart beat just a little faster. Once again, the implications of that were more than a little frightening, so he chose the course of action he felt most comfortable with, and refused to think on it. Instead, he crashed his lips to hers in a hungry, demanding kiss. Determined to drive all conscious thought away. He may not be able to give Garnet a gift in return, but Zevran certainly knew how he intended to repay her kindness.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****Well this is my take on the 'Glove' scene. I wanted to explore a little about what Zevran would be thinking/feeling and also what happened later. As well as trying to show him dealing, or not dealing as the case may be, with his feelings for Amell. For those interested, I picture the design on the gloves to be similar to Celtic knotwork...  
'Yo más bien lo pueden' roughly translates to 'I most certainly can'  
'Mi tentadora' means 'My temptress'**


	33. Nature of the Beast

**Nature of the Beast **(Amell PoV)

The sound of ferocious roars and vicious snarls echoed around the ruined chamber. The only light was cast from weak, dappled sunlight that seeped into the room through various cracks in the once solid stone structure. The wan rays barely illuminated the pack of werewolves that slathered and growled as they past.

_'How do we keep getting into these situations?' _Garnet wondered, as she trained her eyes resolutely ahead.

She had no idea if werewolves could smell fear like it was said mabaris could, but she wasn't prepared to take any chances. The fight through the ruins had been gruelling enough. Now with both herself and Morrigan having seriously depleted their lyrium supply, as well as Leliana slightly limping from a twisted ankle, and Zevran sporting a wicked looking scratch a long the length of his jaw... Garnet was not inclined to push their luck.

The latter point made her more angry than she perhaps should be. It was rare that any of them came out of a fight unscathed, but seeing that werewolf attempt to maul Zevran had set her blood boiling. Thankfully, she had the presence of mind to cast a Winter's Grasp instead of Inferno, to help him, and the assassin had subsequently assured them all that he was perfect fine. Still, it was too close for her liking, and the panic that had gripped her, when fretting if the curse could be passed on through such a wound, had not fully abated. As if reading her mind, Zevran's hand discretely stroked down the back of her arm, stopping just short of the edge of her wrist wraps.

"Estar preparado," he whispered in her ear, and she nodded in agreement, smiling inwardly that she had actually understood his Antivan for once.

"What comes?" Morrigan questioned in a low, hushed voice.

Garnet peered through the gloom, and saw what appeared to be an apparition of a woman, weaving it's way through the throng of werewolves. It only stopped once it had reached the one they had come to know as Swiftrunner. The figure glimmered, seeming to cast her own incandescent light, which caused Garnet to wonder what manner of spirit this was. For it was obvious that this woman was not human, nor elf.

"A nature spirit," Morrigan gasped quietly, confirming Garnet's own suspicions. "That is old and powerful magic indeed," the witch continued.

Powerful was perhaps an understatement, for the air positively crackled with unspent energy, with currents so strong that Garnet could feel the hairs on the back of her neck begin to rise. It was like the beginnings of a thunderstorm. The magic was so palpable, you could almost taste it, and the distinct smell of the fade began to permeate around the closed chamber.

'_What have you gotten yourself into this time?'_ Garnet reprimanded herself. Zathrian had never mentioned a spirit.

Suddenly, the werewolves quietened and abruptly dropped to their knees in obvious reverence to the spirit. A shaft of well place light illuminated the figure fully now, and Garnet took in the sight. It appeared part humanoid, and part plant. Twisted vines seemed to form the figures legs and hands. With greenish-grey skin, hair of jet and eyes of coal. It was a striking sight. As eerie as the form was, there was something undeniably beautiful about the spirit, and an unmistakable feeling of calmness radiated from her.

"I bid you welcome, mortal. I am the Lady of the Forest," the spirit greeted, her voice sounding both aged and young, with an odd echoing cadence adding to the otherworldliness.

_'So this is the Lady the werewolves speak of' _Garnet realised.

Cautiously she stepped forward, careful to keep her posture relaxed and pace slow. The last thing she wanted was to panic the werewolves into attacking. Unless they or the spirit made the first move, Garnet had already decided there would be no more bloodshed.

"I give you my thanks," she replied, bowing her head slightly in respect. "I am glad we have this chance to talk."

"Do not listen to her, my lady," Swiftrunner interrupted in a menacing growl. "She will betray you. We must attack her now."

Despite the threat, Garnet felt sorry for the werewolf. It was clear he was afraid for the spirit's safety. Which further confirmed her suspicion that these were not mindless creatures, driven purely by instinct. Swiftrunner was wanting to protect someone who he cared about, something Garnet understood and could empathise with. Not that it made her any less wary of the situation.

"Hush Swiftrunner," the Lady implored. "Your urge for battle has only seen the deaths of the very ones you are trying to save. Is that what you want?"

"No, my lady. Anything but that," the werewolf replied, practically deflating under the spirit's unwavering gaze.

"The time has come to speak with this outsider. To set our rage aside," the spirit continued, seemingly addressing the rest of the werewolf pack. "I apologise on Swiftrunner's behalf," the Lady said, turning to Garnet once again. "He struggles with his nature."

"As we all do, my lady," she replied solemnly, fully meaning the sentiment.

In truth, Garnet's heart went out to the werewolves. There was a lot more to the tale than the Dalish Keeper had let them know. And wickedly she wondered if it were not for knowing Zevran, or meeting Lanaya, would she still be willing to help the clan.

"Truer words were never spoke," the Lady agreed, closing the distance between them until they stood a mere arm's length apart. "But few could claim the same as these creatures. Their very nature is a curse forced upon them. No doubt you have questions, mortal. There are things that Zathrian has not told you."

"There is truly no surprise in that," Zevran muttered, pulling a smile from both Garnet's and the spirit's lips.

"Would you enlighten us?" Garnet requested, thankful she had brought the three companions she had, rather than Alistair or Sten. Neither of which had the most tolerable approach to the Fade.

Never breaking eye contact, the spirit nodded before silently inviting them to sit, leading them to a large fallen tree truck that had seemingly lived it's entire cycle within the walls of the chamber. "It was Zathrian who created the curse that these creatures suffer, that Zathrian's own people now suffer. Centuries ago, when the Dalish first came to this land, a tribe of humans lived close to this forest. They sought to drive the Dalish away. Zathrian was a young man then, he had a son and daughter he loved greatly. And while out hunting, the human tribe captured them both."

"Dear Maker," Leliana muttered, her eyes downcast to the stone paved floor.

"The humans tortured the boy, killed him. The girl they raped, and left for dead," Swiftrunner snarled as he turned to face them, hatred for the crimes evident in his gravelly voice. "The Dalish found her, but she learned later that she was... with child."

Garnet shut her eyes, as tears threatened to spill. To her mind, it was a hard task to find any fate worse than that for a woman, of any race. It made her shudder to think of it, but Zevran's quiet voice broke into her troubled thoughts.

"Malvado," he whispered, shaking his head.

"She killed herself?" Morrigan questioned, her tone remarkably soft, belying the passive look on her face. Swiftrunner nodded in response, his gaze settling on a spot of moss covered paving slab, and did not look up again.

"I'm inclined to say the humans deserved whatever they got," Garnet admitted, raising her eyes to meet the spirit's.

"Indeed they did," the Lady agreed, a heavy sadness in her tone.

Swiftrunner suddenly stood to his full height, and on hind legs loped towards them. "Zathrian came to these ruins, and summoned a terrible spirit and bound it to the body of a great wolf. So Witherfang came to be," he explained. "Witherfang hunted the human tribe. Many were killed, but others were cursed with his blood. Becoming twisted and savage creatures."

At this news, Garnet's eyes snapped to Zevran. Her gaze lingering on the swipe mark along his jaw. The elf turned his amber eyes to her, there was a hint of concern in the look, though he was covering it well. If she hadn't grown to know him so well, Garnet may have missed it.

"Twisted and savage just as Witherfang himself is. Though do not worry about your mate, mortal. The curse can only be passed on through a bite, he is quite safe," the spirit stated.

Palpably relieved by the Lady's words, Garnet almost missed Zevran being referred to her as her 'mate'. Though when it had sunk in, she raised an eyebrow, regarding the assassin's surprised look and noticing he did not look displeased with the thought.

"Thank you for your reassurance, my lady," Garnet replied, smiling briefly. "But please continue."

Inclining her head in acquisition, the spirit rose from her seated position. "They were driven into the forest. When the human tribe finally left for good, their cursed brethren remained. Pitiful and mindless animals," she explained.

"Until I found you, my lady," Swiftrunner interjected, dropping to bended knee beside the spirit. "You gave me peace."

There was a tender moment as the spirit regarded the werewolf, and Garnet could practically feel the care the Lady felt for her charges.

"I showed Swiftrunner there was another side to his bestial behaviour," the spirit explained. "I soothed his rage, and his humanity emerged. He bought others to me."

Nodding in understanding, Garnet steeled herself to ask the next question, still wary the werewolves could turn hostile at any moment. Not unlikely the feeling she often had within the Dalish camp, if she were to be honest. "Why did you ambush the Dalish? Was it for revenge?"

"We seek to end the curse. The crimes committed against Zathrian's children were grave, but they were committed centuries ago, by those long dead," the lady said. "Word was sent to Zathrian every time the land-ships passed this way, asking him to come. But he has always ignored us, and we will no long be denied."

"We spread the curse to his people so he must end the curse to save them," Swiftrunner elaborated, though in truth it was not needed, Garnet had already figured that out. Yet she nodded at the werewolf in understanding, mostly to be polite.

"Please mortal, you must go to him. Bring him here," the Lady implored. "If he sees these creatures, hears their plight, surely he will agree to end the curse."

Sighing inwardly, Garnet rose from her improvised seat, entirely doubtful that the Keeper would see any reason or have any compassion for the werewolves. However, she was still willing to try and persuade him. Since she truly believed that innocents were now suffering for a centuries old crime, human and elf alike.

"Alright," she agreed, cautiously. "I will bring Zathrian here."

"Kicking and screaming if we must," Morrigan added, almost under her breath.

"Tell him, if he refuses, I will ensure Witherfang is never found. He will never cure his clan," the spirit warned.

"Reasonable enough," Zevran quipped, though not as boisterously as he usually would.

"Outside of this chamber, the passage leading back to the surface has been opened for you," the spirit explained, indicating to a inconspicuous stone door that was barely visible in the gloom. "Return with Zathrian as soon as you can."

* * *

**Author's Note  
First up, translations: 'Estar preparado' means 'Be prepared' and 'Malvado' means 'Wicked'.  
So I know this is a bit of a jump cut, but I didn't feel I needed to retell trudging through the ruin, as I'm sure we all remember what a pain it was to navigate!**


	34. The Other Side

**The Other Side **(Zevran PoV)

As they jogged up the flight of cracked and decrepit stone stairs, he couldn't help but keep an eye on the warden. It was true that for at least half of that time, Zevran had watched the delightful way her hips swayed when she moved. But it honestly truly more than that. He knew Garnet had been affected by the spirit's tale, and the werewolves' plight. He also suspected she was more than a little angry that Zathrian had withheld vital information from them. Not that he was at all surprised by that fact. Still it irked him that the Keeper thought to treat his warden so poorly.

His. When did he start thinking of Garnet as _his_? Zevran had truly meant that he would never hold claim to her, nor seek anything she was not willing to give. Though since being with her... As the days turned to weeks, and weeks into months... the thought of Garnet with another... He let out a small sigh. Unable to deny, at least to himself, that it remained a purely physical interest.

Zevran could well recall the way Garnet had responded when the werewolf had caught him. He could remember the look of concern and fear in her emerald eyes. How annoyed she had been, when he had declined her healing magic in order to save her mana, and how gently she had administered the health poultice. Despite being worried himself about becoming cursed, Zevran had been more rattled by how much Garnet seemed to genuinely care for his well being. And after her acceptance of his scars, her defence of him to others and then the gloves... it was all a little disconcerting to him.

Not to mention, that he'd not long ago been referred to as the warden's 'mate'... by a spirit of the forest no less. The fact that it wasn't true was merely a side note. For Zevran had been more surprised that he hadn't felt panic grip him at the thought. That, or the realisation Garnet hadn't denied the fact, even in front of two of her closest friends. There was only one other person in his life that had never denied him, had never been embarrassed or ashamed to admit there was something between them, and that had been Rinna. Which was a frightening, and unsettling, thought. One best reserved for another time.

"And here you are already," a voice unexpectedly greeted them, as they reached the dilapidated upper chamber.

It roused Zevran from his wandering mind, though he had already partly drawn his blades before he registered that the speaker was Zathrian.

"Somehow, I expected to find you here?" Garnet quipped, sounding whole unimpressed.

"Truly it is no surprise," Zevran agreed, sheathing his daggers. His remark earned him a subtle squeeze of fingers in reply, as his arms settled back by his sides.

"Did you?" Zathrian questioned, pointedly ignoring his remark. "Aren't you the intuitive one?"

"It would be best if you remembered it is you who require our help, more than we need yours," Leliana interjected tersely.

His fellow rouge was voicing Zevran's own opinion on the matter. Even before the spirit's revelations, which he was inclined to believe, Zevran felt that it would simply have been easier to go in search of another Dalish clan. Zathrian was more trouble than was worth, like a blind bet at wicked grace.

For a moment, the Keeper looked angered, then contrite. "There was no telling what would happen when you reached this ruin. So I decided to come myself," he shrugged.

The gesture, though small, made Zevran want to plunge a knife in his fellow elf's neck. He could fully understand why Garnet was siding with the werewolves.

"You believe you would be able to best Witherfang should we fail, yet felt it necessary to endanger the warden with this fool errand in the first place?" Morrigan demanded, incredulously.

A smirk threatened the corner of Zevran's mouth as he regarded the witch. He glad he wasn't the only unlikely person to be taken in by Garnet's charms.

With a small sigh, the warden shook her head. "You and I need to talk Zathrian."

"Yes, yes. There will be plenty of time for that later. Did you acquire the heart?" the Keeper asked.

His tone was so dismissive, that Zevran bristled on Garnet's behalf, his hand instinctively going for the small hidden dagger concealed in his belt. Though he simply settled on waiting, to see if the older elf was stupid enough to make against the warden. To give him an excuse to end his life. As he waited, Zevran idly thought back to earlier in the day, as they traipsed the labyrinth of ruined rooms. His mind settling on the strange occurrence when the warden and Morrigan both swore they had 'conversed' with a spirit trapped in a phylactery.

Despite the unusualness of it all, Zevran couldn't help but wonder if Garnet would want to explore the possibilities that had arisen from that event. As he was fairly certain that the witch would be happy sticking to her shape-shifting. If the warden did, Zevran figured she would have more roguish tendencies, since she could already use a bow. At least, he hoped she would. The skill might have been have translated from elven to common as Arcane Warrior, but there were _very_ few Warrior elves. Rogue was much more likely, which meant he could help train her, if she would allow. It was an unexpectedly inviting thought.

"No." Garnet's simple, solemnly stated answer pulled Zevran from his musings.

"You didn't? May I ask why then, are you leaving the ruin?" Zathrian practically demanded.

"Ah, so you knew about the ruin?" Zevran asked in return, instinctively stepping slightly in front of Garnet. "That is convenient, no? And surprising you did not tell our dear warden such information."

A gentle hand lay on his shoulder, and a small squeeze gave silent thanks. "Why exactly didn't you tell us about the ruins?" Garnet queried.

"There was no need. I knew you would find it, and I didn't come to give you history lessons on things that have no baring on your purpose here," the Keeper answered dismissively. "But it seems the spirit has convinced you to act on her behalf. Might I enquire what she wants?"

"It would be interesting to know what you think she wants," Morrigan drawled, as she leant on her gnarled oak staff, eyeing Zathrian disdainfully. "Not to mention that you knew about the spirit."

"To survive, I suspect. That is the common want among all such creatures." The Keeper began to pace as he spoke, his robes kicking up dust as it swept along the neglected stone floor. "You do realise she actually _is_ Witherfang?"

"Yes," Garnet replied simply.

"Tis obvious," Morrigan agreed.

For a brief moment both Zevran and Leliana shared a look. It hadn't been obvious to the two rogues, though he supposed that might have something to do with neither of them being magically inclined. Despite feeling a little out of the loop, he couldn't help but smirk at how the two mage's knowledge seemed to deflate the Keeper. For Zathrian now stood with his shoulders sagged, eyeing the warden cautiously.

"She is the powerful spirit of this ancient forest that I summoned long ago, and bound in the body of a wolf," the Keeper explained. "Her nature is that of the forest itself. Beautiful and terrible, serene and savage, maiden and beast."

Zevran's smirk turned softer at hearing the other elf's description. If he hadn't have known better, Zathrian could almost be describing Garnet. As beautiful and serene as she normally was, she was fierce in battle. Death in the form of terrible fireballs and savage arrows. A force to be reckoned with, something he doubted the Keeper had taken into account.

"The curse came from her first," Zathrian continued. "Those she afflicted with it, mirrored her own nature. Becoming savage beasts, as well as human."

"Surely the curse came first from you," Leliana stated, moving to mirror Zevran's stance, but in front of Morrigan.

"They attacked us first, and they were the same savages then as they are now," the Keeper defended, his voice raising slightly, belying his neutral face. "They deserve to be wiped out, and not defended."

"No. The original humans were savages," Garnet countered, her tone strong but not unkind. "And they paid for their crimes, a long time ago."

"These creatures are not to blame for what befell your family. They are innocents suffering for crimes they did not commit," Morrigan argued.

"As are your own people," the warden added, her gaze softening as she regarded Zathrian.

It came as no surprise to Zevran that Garnet was walking the path of reason, what was unusual was that Morrigan seemed Fade-bent on helping her. He'd never seen, nor heard, the witch defend anyone but herself and her existence as an apostate. Not that he blamed her, selfishness was needed to survive in this world after all. But the fact that Morrigan was defending the werewolves was, well... shocking, to say the least.

Shaking his head, Zathrian strode past them, barely pausing to address the warden. "Come. I will accompany you back to the ruin. Let us go speak to the spirit, and I will force her into Witherfang's form. He may then be slain, and the heart taken."

Garnet's hand shot out and clasped the Keeper's forearm, and Zathrian whirled to face her. The atmosphere was charged and tense as the two mages faced each other. Without hesitation, Zevran drew the dagger closest to Zathrian, but the swipe was halted when the warden caught his wrist with her free hand. Her emerald gaze never broke eye contact with the Keeper.

"I assure you, the werewolves have regained their minds," she implored.

"Even so, they are still the same worthless creatures that their ancestors were," Zathrian scoffed. "They deserve nothing more than the misery they possess. This is not your battle, Grey Warden. Let us just take the heart, and be done with it."

"Why? Because they were Shems?" Zevran interjected, lowering his blade.

He hated using that term for humans. He honestly thought it was ridiculous, but felt that playing the 'elf card' might help diffuse the situation. Not that he wouldn't happily slit Zathrian's throat. However, Garnet wanted to resolve this peacefully, which meant Zevran was inclined to do his best to aid her efforts.

"You are being short sighted, my friend," he added.

"Won't you at least consider talking to them?" the warden asked, her voice kind and gentle.

Zathrian's eyes narrowed. "Why? You claim they have regained their minds, but they are still savage beasts. Their nature is unchanged. All they want is revenge, or a release that I will not give them. No, let us take the heart and end it."

"Do you still have so much hatred after all this time?" Leliana questioned softly.

"You were not there, you didn't..." the Keeper's voice halted, his eyes clenching shut. "You didn't see what they did to my son. My daughter. And so many others."

Unexpectedly, the warden's grasp shifted from Zathrian's forearm to his hand, squeezing it gently in a reassuring manner. Zevran would have laughed at the look of utter shock on the Keeper's face, if the tension hadn't still been palpable. For a heartbeat, Zathrian seemed to calm, to take comfort in Garnet's small gesture. Before he visibly shook himself, flinging her hand away as if she had burnt him.

"You are no Dalish," he continued. "How could you know how we struggled to be safe? How could I let their crimes go unanswered?"

"I don't need to be Dalish to understand how abhorrent their crimes were," the warden replied, patiently. Not seeming offended by Zathrian's behaviour. "But the perpetrators are long since dead."

"I have sworn to protect my people, and I shall. I will not lift a finger to help the descendants of those savages," the Keeper ranted.

A sigh threatened to escape Zevran's lips as he watched the debated. Knowing Garnet as well as he did now, he could tell her own frustration was rising. It was evident by the tight set of her jaw, the slight glint in her verdant eyes. Most would have missed the signs, would have continued to have seen only the geniality Garnet wished to portray. However, Zevran _knew_ her.

"You do not even know if these werewolves are their descendants or hapless travellers caught by the curse. They might not all have been human either, and your own people are suffering now," the warden argued. "All I am proposing is that you at least meet with them first."

"And what if it is revenge they want, and not talk?" Zathrian asked. "Will you safeguard me from harm?"

"I don't think it will come to that, but we will. Unless you attack first," Garnet warned, and Zevran nodded his agreement. It was a reasonable enough arrangement.

"I don't see the point in this," the Keeper stated, rubbing his forehead. "But very well. It _has_ been many centuries now. Let us see what the spirit has to say."

With a nod, the warden gestured Zathrian to lead the way, accompanied by Morrigan and Leliana. The witch departed by giving the warden a look, one that Zevran could not discern. Though it seemed to be one that Garnet evidently understood, for she gave a small smile in response. Before Zevran had chance to follow, the warden stopped him, a hand gently cupping the side of his face. A cool, soothing sensation washed over his jaw, and he felt the wound left by the werewolf scratch finally knitting together.

"Personally, I think your scars add to your air of danger, but I know how vain you are," Garnet told him sweetly, a brief flash of mischief in her eyes.

"Mi querida, it is not vanity when it is perfection you are maintaining," he teased in reply, carefully brushing an errant lock of hair away from her face.

In a the span of a heartbeat, a myriad of silent emotions passed between them. Neither seeming to want to voice what they truly felt. Though the weight of Garnet's gaze left Zevran's mouth dry, he had never thought to see such emotions directed at him. Then, without warning, she closed the distance between them, stopping only when her luscious lips were a mere hair's breadth away from his. It broken the unusual moment, dissolved the tension between them. It was a welcomed respite, which Zevran presumed was the warden's intention.

"You're over dressed for perfection," Garnet whispered conspiratorially.

The warden's lips barely ghosted across his, before she quickly slipping back out of his grasp. Zevran almost groaned in frustration as he watched her saunter towards the stairs.

"Thank you, by the way," Garnet called, looking back alluringly over her shoulder with a hand placed against the stonework of the cracked doorway.

Briefly, the image of him pinning her against the wall flashed in his mind, pulling a smirk to his lips. Crossing his arms over his chest, Zevran looked at her in amusement. "And what are you thanking me for, cariño?"

"For your support," she replied.

With that, Garnet disappeared into the gloom of the narrow stairwell, leaving him staring at the space she had occupied. After a moment, Zevran shook his head, and chuckling, he followed her descent.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****So I wanted to give a look into the events from Zevran's PoV, along with a look into his mind. Almost like sitting in a meeting you know you have to pay attention to, but your mind keeps wandering off. **


	35. Still Alive

**Still Alive **(Amell PoV)

She sighed wearily. It was over. The curse lifted and those afflicted with it, cured. However, returning to the Dalish camp had not felt like a victory. With both Zathrian and the Lady giving their lives to end the werewolf curse, it felt a little hollow. They didn't even have a body to present to Lanaya and the clan. The Keeper had simply crumbled to dust. Most likely the affect of a life of centuries, prolonged and sustained by magic.

Thankfully, the Dalish hadn't held them responsible for the passing of Zathrian, Lanaya going so far as to remark it was probably a mercy. The new Keeper had even disclosed the location of a secluded hot spring, perhaps the clan's best kept secret of the area, as a way of more personal thanks. After all, treaties being honoured only made you so happy, especially when you were covered in blood and grim, aching from head to toe.

Whilst Garnet had been in talks from Lanaya, Morrigan and Leliana had sampled the hot spring, for posterity... apparently. They had returned the verdict that it was every bit as wonderful as one would image. The fact the witch was actually smiling was a real testament to that, and Garnet had made her way to the secluded grove as soon as her duties would allow. Her wash bag was in hand, along with a beautiful deep red tunic, most likely dyed with distilled blood lotus if the shade was any indication. It was an unexpected gift from Gheyna, for helping her reunite with Cammen. Garnet had originally intended to wear it to the young couple's nuptials tomorrow, yet Lanaya had informed her it would be more of an honour if her group attended in their armour. Something about a blessing of warriors... Garnet wasn't entirely sure she took in all the information. She just knew she would indulge in the wonderfully soft fabric tonight.

She sighed again, this time in bliss, as she stepped into the hot spring. The warm, mineral infused water was divine. It almost instantly alleviated some of the pent up stiffness in her body, and the gentle babbling of the spring lulled her. The full moon was now high in the sky, casting a silvery glow on the glade. A scattering of summoned werelights added to the illumination, and the honey scent of wild flowers still hung thickly in the air. In short, even to a mage, the hot spring seemed magical.

Suddenly, a hand caressed her naked skin. Stroking from her elbow up to her shoulder. Instead of starting, or casting a fireball as she was want to do when frightened, Garnet simply smiled. She had learnt to recognise his touch. At first, she had been so surprised to learn that Zevran's hands were hardly calloused from his constant use of dual blades, now it was something she appreciated greatly. Apparently they were kept soft by a cacophony of lotions and potions, insisted upon by the Crows. Or so he said... since Garnet was partially convinced the assassin was just vain enough to come up with it on his own.

"Zev," she greeted, capturing his hand and laying a kiss on the palm. "I was hoping you would join me."

"What would the others say?" he teased, kissing the junction where her should met her neck.

Garnet couldn't help but hum her approval when Zevran's evident arousal pressed against her. "Do we care?" she asked, smiling.

Slowly, she turned in his arms. But only managed a quick glance into his amber eyes, before her gaze settled on his lips. Chuckling, Zevran seemed to recognise her intent, for he closed the distance between them before she had a chance. Not that Garnet was going to complain, and she happily snaked her arms around Zevran's neck, as his full lips caressed hers. His customary, sandalwood scent mixed with the heady perfume of the wild flowers, and somewhere in the distance an owl hooted. The feel of his wet, naked skin against hers was intoxicating. He tasted faintly of berry wine, which caused Garnet to smile into the kiss. She could easily imagining how much it would not have matched his beloved Antivan Brandy, and how little he must have enjoyed it.

"You are in good humour, cariño," Zevran goaded, breaking their kiss but not fully pulling away.

"And why wouldn't I be?" she quipped in reply.

Garnet looked up at him from beneath her lashes, and ran her hands lightly down his well defined chest. Without warning, she found herself being picked up, with Zevran's hands firmly holding her rear. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist, and Garnet shivered slightly as the chilled air suddenly met previously submerged skin.

"Are you cold, my dear?" Zevran taunted, before his tongue flicked over a stiffening peak.

She couldn't help but gasp and buck against him, as he repeated the action to her other breast. Garnet scowled at him in mock annoyance as he chuckled at her reaction, before exacting revenge by licking up the tapered curve of his ear. A move that never failed to excite him.

"Smug doesn't suit you," she warned, whispering lowly into his ear. Which elicited a shudder from him.

The warm water lapped around them as Zevran carried her to the edge of the spring, his weight serving to balance her between his body and the rock wall. "Yet you do not complain about my skill," he retorted, one of his hands leaving her rear, and quickly finding her sensitive nub.

_'Ass'_ flitted around her brain, before his nibble fingers chased all thoughts of retaliation from her mind. Moaning softly in pleasure, Garnet let her head rest back on the rock as her hands gripped Zevran's biceps, in a feeble attempt to ground herself. Gasping out her enjoyment, she thought she heard him murmur: "Bonita", before his lips found hers again.

With a mind of their own, her hands travelled up, over his strong shoulders and tangled in his silky hair. Her eyes closed as she writhed against him, purposefully giving herself over to the sensations he brought her. When she felt Zevran's tongue glide against her lips, she gladly gave him entrance. Enjoying the languid kiss that was completely at odds with the heat and passion building between them. As Zevran gave her a particularly wonderful stroke, Garnet's eyes snapped open, locking onto his amber gaze. Their many times together had rendered words obsolete, and Zevran understood her silent request. Slowly, he stopped his ministrations, before aligning himself with her. Nibbling her lower lip in expectation, Garnet's eyes wandered his handsome face, drinking in his features before her gaze landed on his jaw.

Though there was no mark remaining, her mind was immediately yanked back to earlier in the ruins. The sight of the werewolf's claws swiping at Zevran, and the cascade of blood that followed... that would haunt her nightmares as surely as the archdemon did. Tears threatened to form in Garnet's eyes, and she swallowed thickly. Zevran must have noticed something was amiss, for he looked at her questioningly. It was then that she realised he was still poised, waiting to join with her. Not wanting to worry him, she kissed Zevran hungrily. The action fuelled by fear and concern, as much as passion and desire. Of their own volition, her hands wandered to cup his face, almost as if her subconscious was seeking out reassurance that he was not wounded.

Obviously, Zevran took the kiss as assurance, swiftly pushing inside her. The delicious fullness made Garnet moan into their kiss, and one hand slid to the back of his neck, whilst the other continued caressing his previously injured jawline. There was no doubt in Garnet's mind that being with Zevran was somehow... _right_. His companionship always enjoyable, their union always pleasurable. Not that she would admit this to him, still fearing he would run a mile if he realised her deepening feelings for him.

Though somehow, this time felt different. Their movements more erratic, their passion more fevered. It was almost as if he felt her tumultuous emotions, perhaps even understood. For when his eyes lock with hers, there was an intensity in Zevran's gaze that Garnet hadn't seen before. It stole her breathe away, right up until he playfully nipped at her throat. Then it was as if a damn had been broken.

Her lips crashed into his, savage and unyielding. An action he met with equal vigour. His fingers roughly dug into the flesh of her rear, and her nails scratched along the skin of his upper back. Garnet broke the kiss to trail smaller ones along his jawline, unable to stop herself from paying special attention to the site of the wound, before travelling towards his sensitive ear. Zevran's breathe hitched and their rhythm stuttered as Garnet gently nibbled his lobe, causing her to grin wickedly.

"Garnet," he huffed out in a hoarse whisper, making her eyes snap back to his.

He never said her name during their encounters, or well... _ever_, if she thought about it. She was so stunned, that his next forceful thrust caught her slightly by surprise, and she moaned loudly in pleasure. Zevran seemed to be spurred on by her reaction, for the pace he then set was unrelenting. Not wanting to be out done, Garnet matching him move for move. Each roll of her hips eliciting a groan of pleasure from him, and each of his thrusts pulled a moan of delight from her. Some part of her mind realised that they were being a _lot_ louder than usual, but for once she didn't care. As far as Garnet was concerned, they were celebrating being alive, and the Maker could spit on anyone who objected.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****Well, Happy (early) Valentine's everyone. I was intending to publish this actually on Saturday, but with the site going down the other day, I thought I would upload it early just to be on the safe side.  
As you can probably tell, this was another sex scene with lovely Zevran and was inspired by a mod that lets you take a 'bath' with him in the camp's pond. (Sorry, I don't know the actual name of the mod or the creator!) Apart from the pleasurable aspects of it, I wanted to explore their depending connection and also how the events of previous chapters have affect them.  
Also... Yes, I know blood lotus doesn't make an appearance until Awakening, but they were obviously around. The scent of the wild flowers is inspired by 'The Mabari Hound' quest in the Korcari Wilds, and 'Bonita' means 'Beautiful' in Antivan... I mean Spanish!**


	36. As the World Falls Down

**As the World Falls Down** (Zevran PoV)

He couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face as he watched Garnet pant heavily, and it wasn't only from the enticing rise and fall of her delicious bosom, though that was certainly a bonus. No, it was much more than that. Zevran was feeling rather proud of the fiery mage. As he had hoped, the warden had come to him for instruction, desiring to learn how to duel wield so she could make use of the arcane knowledge she had enquired in the Bracilian ruins. Despite this being the reason Garnet had given, Zevran was starting to think she would have asked eventually anyway. Since she carried around the dagger, that had once belong to Duncan, just as faithfully as she carried her bow. Unfortunately that fine dagger had a rather underwhelming partner, a pathetic blade scrounged from Bodhan's dwindling stock.

"Again," he instructed, chuckling when she groaned.

Zevran found his respect growing for Garnet. This was only her first lesson, he could see she was exhausted, and yet the warden did not cast any rejuvenating magic on herself. Instead, she simply rolled her shoulders and began to circle him again. The leather skirt of her borrowed armour, kindly and discreetly leant by Leliana, swayed with her movements. Zevran's eyes drank in her form as he observed her movements, and was pleased to say she gave barely any tells before springing forward to attack. He deflected easily, turning with the movement and forcing her off balance. Garnet hit the ground, rolled, and was on her feet quickly before lunging. Again, Zevran easily foiled her attack, and in a quick flurry of movements had her on the defensive. Pulling an empty fade, he sought to knock her to the floor, however Garnet swiftly pivoted.

After that, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Looking back, Zevran would never be able to explain how the warden's deflection managed to bring his blade closer to her, rather than force him away. Yet it did. Eyes widened in fear, his voice firmly stuck in his throat from shock, Zevran watched as his dagger sliced her porcelain neck. Garnet dropped to her knees, weapons forgotten and hands clamped firmly to the wound. Nausea washed over him, and as he looked at her, Zevran was almost transported to a different time, a different place. A different victim. For a moment he saw Rinna staring accusingly at him...

Then he was crouched next to Garnet, with only seconds passing. One of his larger hands adding pressure, while the other stroked her sweat drenched hair out of her eyes. His heart frantically thumped against his ribs as panic gripped him. Wanting to stay, and the need to rush for help warred inside him, until the latter won out. He had to make this right, he had to save her, he wouldn't have Garnet's blood on his hands as well. She deserved more, and he had never meant to harm her. However, as Zevran rose to stand, one of Garnet's blood soaked hands grabbed his wrist and halted his movements. Inexplicably, the warden gave him a tentative smile. Zevran couldn't believe how calm she seemed, or how gently she looked at him. There was no accusation, no reproach.

That's when he felt it. The gentle tingle he'd come to associate with Garnet's healing magic. Squinting slightly, Zevran thought he caught a faint shimmer of green surrounding her. However the fading light obscured colours, instead bathing everything it touched with a golden sheen. The warden's smile never faltered, though she winced slightly when he caressed her throat, once she removed her other hand.

"Still tender," Garnet explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you alright?"

Was he... alright? He had just sliced open her throat, and she was asking if _he_ was alright?! The woman was mad. He regarded her in stunned silence for a moment, before the irrepressible urge to hold her took over. Almost roughly, Zevran crushed Garnet to him.

"Cariño," he grit out through clenched teeth, before pressing a kiss firmly to the top of her head. Anger, relief, guilt, elation... all seemed to suddenly explode with in him.

"Hush," Garnet soothed. It was only when she gently wiped an errant tear with blood stained fingers, did Zevran realise he was crying. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?! You want me to tell you what is wrong?" he demanded, grabbing her shoulders and almost shaking her. "I nearly killed you! If you weren't a mage I _would_ have killed..." his throat constricted, choking on the word, the knowledge of what he had done.

Without deigning to reply, Garnet turned her head, shunning him. Or so Zevran thought, until he noticed her slender fingers trace along the length of her exposed throat, wiping some of the blood away. "Not a mark," she stated, so blasé that one would think she was commenting on a piece of furniture.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Zevran reached for her again. His bloodied hands tangled in her hair, unapologetically turning the locks a deeper red. Without request, Garnet kissed him. The gesture so tender, it drew out more unwanted tears.

"Cariño," he whispered against her lips. The term of endearment now becoming a word of relief, thanks, and of apology. All rolled into one.

"There is obviously more on your mind, than this accident," Garnet remarked, resting her forehead against his. "Talk to me?"

Swallowing thickly, Zevran could not bring himself to meet her eyes. How could he explain what he had done? How did one explain such a vile act? The fact that the warden did not seem angry with his carelessness, was a miracle. But even someone as patient and as kind as Garnet was, would surely abandon him after such a confession. And yet, he felt he owned her that much. The truth... and so much more.

Biting back a sigh, Zevran stole a kiss from Garnet's unresisting lips, perhaps one that would be his last, and tried to settle himself in a more comfortable position. He sat crossed legged on the cold ground, pulling Garnet into his lap. The small clearing they had been practising in, was now filled with shadows, as the setting sun disappeared behind the treeline. Since they had been travelling for four days, the air was considerably cooler, as they had reached the edge of the Frostbank Mountain range. This allowed Zevran to hold Garnet tighter than he would have normally, able to hide his desire for comfort under the guise of preserving body heat.

"Yes, I suppose it is time," he relented, reluctantly. "You've been a good friend to me, after all. There is no need to be silent." In all honesty, Zevran could think of many reasons to remain silent, however all of them painted him a coward. "There is a reason I accepted this mission in Fereldan, far away from home," he admitted, barely glancing at her. "And it had nothing to do with any thought that I might leave the Crows. Meeting you, after all, was quite an accident."

Garnet gently kissed cheek. "Not one I regret."

"Nor I," he agreed. "Though my last mission, before this one... did not end well."

"Is this a story, or a confession?" the warden asked, but not unkindly. Her fingers entwining with his.

"I do not know," Zevran replied cautiously, trying resolutely not to think about the amount of her blood that stained both their hands. "A little of both, perhaps? You must realise, until that day, I was cocky and arrogant. I was the best Crow in Antiva, I believed, and I bragged of my conquests often... both as an assassin and lover."

It was evident that Garnet was trying to hold in a smile, especially as she bit her bottom lip in a vain attempt to hide it. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "But you were _more_ cocky? I'll let you off with the arrogant, you're not _that_ bad."

Zevran managed a short chuckle as he kissed her forehead. "Indeed. I was often told I was insufferable... right before I ended up in bed with someone. Such is how it was." He actually felt embarrassed admitting this to the warden. Not merely due to his guilt about what he was going to reveal, but because he was starting to be ashamed of the life he had lived, the person he had been.

"Well, you are irresistible," Garnet complimented, in a transparent attempt to alleviate some of his discomfort.

"You are too kind, mi querida." Indulging himself, Zevran hugged her even closer. "One of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting," he continued. "My bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise: A wealthy merchant with many guards and completely silent. Taliesen agreed to be part of my team. As well as an elven lass named Rinna."

He couldn't help but falter when saying her name, and Zevran's gazed fixed firmly on the ground beside him. Just thinking of Rinna was hard enough, but this was more difficult than he imagined. Once again, it wasn't until Garnet was wiping a tear from his cheek, did he realise he was crying.

"Tell me about her?" the warden requested, her soft voice barely above a whisper.

"She was... a marvel," Zevran explained, awkwardly. "Tough, smooth, wicked. Eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired." He shut his eyes, dreading Garnet's response.

"You loved her?" she asked quietly.

A sigh escaped him. "Rinna was special. I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something within me. It frightened me," he admitted.

At that exact moment, Zevran realised his feelings for Rinna paled in comparison compared to what he felt for Garnet. His heart began to beat faster, as realisation dawned on exactly how much he could lose by telling the warden everything. His mouth went dry at the implication, and Zevran found himself shaking his head, in the hopes of clearing his thoughts.

"You needn't to go on, if it's too difficult," Garnet soothed.

How the warden always managed to understand how he felt, was beyond Zevran. She always knew, without fail. Yet this time it did not bring him comfort, he needed to tell her what had happened, even if he didn't want to. Which he really didn't. If Garnet rejected him for it, it would be painful. It would drive a wedge between them, though it would give him time to come to his sense. If she didn't...

"Thank you, but it is alright," Zevran replied, forcing a small smile. He took a shuddering breath, trying to steel himself to continue. "When Taliesen revealed to me that Rinna had accepted a bribe from the merchant, told him of our plan, I..." he swallowed past the lump forming in his throat.

"Take your time," Garnet reassured, lightly kissing his cheek for a second time.

"I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price, and allowed Taliesen to kill her." Zevran loosened his hold on Garnet, allowing her escape his embrace if and when she chose to. "Rinna begged me not to. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me she loved me and had not betrayed us. I laughed in her face and said that even if it were true, I didn't care." He hung his head in shame, not daring to look at Garnet.

Unexpectedly, the warden didn't make a move to leave his embrace, if anything she moved in closer. "But that wasn't true."

She sounded so sure, and Zevran's gaze snapped up to her beautiful face. His stomach lurched when he noticed the unshed tears in her emerald eyes, yet it was her look of concern that really undid him. Despite clenching his eyes shut, a rogue tear still escaped. There was a time Zevran would have been angry at himself, for showing such emotions, but right now he was too drained to fight it.

"I convinced myself it was," he admitted bitterly. "Taliesen cut her throat and I watched her bleed as she starred up at me." Visions of Garnet, injured and bleeding swam in his head. Mixing with his memories of Rinna. Hinting at nightmares he would surely have for years to come. "I spat on her for betraying the Crows. When Taliesen and I finally assassinated the merchant, we found the true source of his information. Rinna had not betrayed us after all."

Garnet did move then, and Zevran prepared himself for the inevitable rejection. Rejection that never came. The warden shifted to her knees, between his legs, and threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace. "Zev, I'm so sorry," she whispered before kissing his temple.

More eager than he cared to admit, Zevran returned her fierce hold. "I... wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, our mistake. Taliesen convinced me not to. He said it would be a foolish waste. So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt. We needn't have bothered, the Crows knew what we had done."

"How...?" Garnet began to ask.

"The master that disliked me, told me so to my face," he explained. "He said the Crows knew... and they didn't care. And one day my turn will come."

"Not if I can help it," she practically growled, drawing a small smile to his lips. "But why would he do that?"

"To rub it in my face, perhaps?" Zevran shrugged. "That I saw nothing. That she was nothing."

"You are _not_ nothing," Garnet affirmed, cradling his face. Thankfully, the blood had long since dried on her hands. "You are wonderful."

Zevran gave a huff of humourless laughter, and shook his head in disagreement. "You once asked why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted was to die. What better way than to throw myself at one of the fabled Grey Wardens?"

The look of hurt that flashed across Garnet's face would haunt him as surely as the sight of her bleeding, and he truly understood how far he had fallen.

"Then... this happened, and here I am." Out of depth, in deep trouble, and more scared than he could ever remember. What the Fade was he thinking? Doing? Other than setting himself up for a painful fall.

"Do you still want to die?" Garnet's voice was uncharacteristically small and unsure, a sound so surprising that it chased away his thoughts of self-preservation.

"No," Zevran assured. "What I want is to begin again."

The dangerous thought of _'with you' _hovered around his head treacherously, and he literally bit his tongue. Ensuring that he wasn't entirely stupid and let it slip out. He hadn't turned into a complete fool, after all.

"Whatever it is I sought by leaving Antiva, I think I have found it," he admitted, gently stroking the chilled skin of her arms. "I owe you a great deal."

Garnet's eyes widened slightly at his words, and it was only then that Zevran realise how they sounded. Especially when coupled with his actions, and how true that interpretation was. His hands shook slightly as they settled on her waist, and he inhaled deeply, wanting to calm the unwanted nerves that had begun to bubble up inside him. _'Idiota'_ Zevran cursed himself, bracing for Garnet's reply.

"You don't owe me a thing, Zev," the warden smiled. "But I'm glad to have you with me." She glanced away then, seeming almost shy. "Though we should probably get cleaned up."

A sigh of relief escaped him, and he readily agreed to her suggestion, glad that Garnet was not a woman to draw things out. Hurriedly, Zevran collected their discarded weapons. "Allow me to tend them?" he requested, as they began to walk towards a nearby steam they had spotted earlier.

If the warden were to ask, Zevran would have dismissed the fact as practical, since Garnet had yet to learn how to clean a blade properly. However, that was far from the truth. In reality he could not think of anything else to do as an apology and as a gesture of gratitude. Until he could, tending her weapons was the best he could do.

Garnet eyed him critically. "If you're certain you do not mind," she said at length. "Though I do want you to teach me at some point. I'm guessing it will be part of my training after all."

Her words stopped Zevran in his tracks. "You still wish for me to instruct you?" he asked, astounded.

"Why wouldn't I?" she replied, looking truly perplexed. "One accident hasn't changed a thing. I still trust you implicitly."

A bark of laughter was startled out of him, as he starred at her in surprise, and on impulse Zevran slung an arm around her shoulders. "You are crazy, cariño," he grinned. The fact that she still trusted him... in all honesty, he was having difficulty processing that.

And although Zevran couldn't be sure, he could have sworn he heard Garnet mutter: "Only for you," under her breath.

* * *

**Author's Note:  
****As you probably noticed, this chapter focuses on the Rinna conversation from the game. Whilst the dialogue was good, the conversation almost seemed to come out of nowhere. I've seen videos where it's had at camp, in my playthrough it happened at The Pearl! I thought it needed some grounding, and also a catalyst, since our beloved Zevran doesn't like to disclose anything serious or meaningful. Thus... this chapter happened! And yes... I was listening to David Bowie when I named this chapter!  
Medieval sword fighting terms:  
Deflect – Actively change the incoming sword's speed or angle by hitting it with your own sword.  
Empty Fade – Leaping backwards, but immediately leaping forwards again.  
Lunge – Leaping forward whilst leaving feet in the same orientation.  
Pivot – 180 degrees turn while keeping front foot stationary.**


	37. Bonds of Friendship

**Bonds of Friendship** (Amell PoV)

Cadoc's breath was hot against her bare leg as he flung himself down beside her. The warm tickle made her squirm, forcing Garnet to reposition herself in a more defensible positions. Namely, moving to sit cross-legged, and pulling the fabric of the dark purple dress Leliana had thrust upon her, down over her legs. If she were to think about it, Garnet could have sworn that the bard was using her as a doll to play dress up. Not that she minded, it was a luxury to wear something other than battle robes for a time. Well... anything that wasn't circle robes that is. A whimper from her side derailed Garnet's wandering thoughts, and absent-mindedly, she scratched behind Cadoc's ears as the mabari lay his heavy head on her thigh.

"Cariño."

She started in surprise, and her assembled werelights scattered. Garnet glanced up from the tome she had been buried nose deep in, to be greeted by the sight of Zevran standing less than a foot away. To anyone else, nothing would seem out of the ordinary, however she could tell he was on edge. Perhaps it was the smile that didn't reach his amber eyes, or the subtle shift of his feet that gave away his ill ease. Though, to Garnet, most telling was the fact he was stood in front of her, rather than simply coming to sit beside her as he would normally do.

"Zev," she smiled, purposefully looking up at him through her lashes in the way Garnet knew he appreciated.

With a snort, Cadoc lumbered to his feet and padded inside her tent, and for a moment Zevran's smile did reach his stunning eyes. However it quickly vanished, as his eyes wandered from her face to her throat. Garnet's brow furrowed at this. There was not mark there, and any blood had long since been washed away, she was even wearing different clothes. Leliana's borrowed armour had be cleaned and returned with no one the wiser of the accident that had occurred, and that's all it was. An accident. Garnet wouldn't have given it another thought, if it wasn't for how pensive Zevran had been since returning to camp.

"You okay?" she asked cautiously, closing her book and setting it to the side.

Instead of answering, Zevran presented her with a roll of burgundy cloth, which Garnet accepted without hesitation. She was surprised when the feeling of rich velvet greeted her fingertips, but put more thought into intentionally brushing her fingers over Zevran's as he withdrew his hand.

"I... hope they are both to your satisfaction," he said hesitantly, before hastily retreating to the other side of the camp fire.

Utterly confused, Garnet set out the roll on the ground in front of her, and gently unwrapped the contents. The first came as no surprise. Duncan's beautiful dagger gleamed in the low light, polished so it shone like new. Zevran had asked if he could tend her weapons earlier, but Garnet hadn't expected him to do so with such devotion. It almost explained why they hadn't spoken at all since returning to camp. Though the evident care he had taken, made her realise that this was an apology. A really meaningful one, if she were to hazard a guess.

Smiling gently, she briefly cradled the cherished weapon carefully in her hands, admiring it before setting it on top of her discarded book. Expecting to see her other, less than pretty knife, Garnet was amazed by what she saw. A stunning red steel dagger with a broad, double edge blade, engraved spine and carved dragonbone handle. Several heartbeats past as Garnet simply stared at the weapon. Where Duncan's dagger was impressive, this one was something else. On impulse, her eyes snapped up and briefly. She saw Zevran regarding her, until he quickly averted his eyes.

_'Is this... a gift?' __Garnet_ wondered, utterly shocked.

Soft footsteps heralded the arrival of another visitor. "A Crow dagger? That is an exceptional blade."

Stretching languidly, Garnet gave Leliana an easy smile as the rogue came to sit beside her. "You recognise it?" she asked, trying not to chuckle at the admiration in her friend's voice.

"I've seen one identical to it before," Leliana admitted, in the tone that always indicated a story was about to be told. "Many years ago, Marjolaine and I were on a mission to silence an Orlesian minor noble, who was sowing dissent against the Empress. As it turned out, the Council of Heralds were not the only ones wanting the Baron's blood. A distant relative from Antiva had hired an assassin to rid the family of the 'nuisance'."

"A Crow?" Garnet guessed, settling comfortably against her fellow red head's side.

"Exactly that," the bard agreed. "A pretty elf. Raven hair, olive skin and the most amazing charcoal eyes, that looked almost wild. She travelled with a rugged looking human who introduced himself as Nuncio, he was quite... intriguing."

Despite smirking at Leliana's wayward mind, it was the description of the elf's eyes that caught Garnet's attention. "Did you catch her name?" she asked as nonchalantly as she could manage.

"I am not quiet sure," the rogue replied. "The four of us decided to work together, that way none of us would walk away without payment, and it made dealing with the Baron's guards a lot more efficient. During the fight, I once heard Nuncio call her 'Ri', but that could simply be a nickname. No?"

_'It can't be...' _Garnet discretely swallowed past the lump forming in her throat "And she wielded a dagger like this?" she questioned, her heart feeling like it was hammering against her ribs.

"They could be twins," Leliana replied. "But why so many questions, ma chère?"

Plastering on her most convincing grin, Garnet chuckled. "I might not be a bard, but can't I invent a history for my new dagger?"

"Such a blade does deserve a story, but not as impressive as this one's, yes?" the bard stated, gesturing to Duncan's dagger. "How did you acquire this new blade?"

Deciding it was pointless to lie, Garnet simply shrugged. "Zevran. I guess he decided my second knife was below par. Which, he would have a point. Even Bodahn said it was a piece of scrap, and he sold it to me!"

Chuckling, Leliana leant her head against Garnet's "He is quite a character, your Zevran."

_'Mine?' _she pondered, giving a huff of humourless laughter. "What do you mean by that?"

"He seems to seek pleasure, above all things, but there is more to him. Isn't there?" the rogue pressed. "He's more complex than he lets on."

_'That would be putting it mildly' _Garnet mused, idly tracing her finger down the spine of the Crow dagger before setting in beside Duncan's. Her eyes couldn't help wandering over to where Zevran sat, and a smirk tugged at the side of her mouth.

"Why so fascinated with Zev? Do I have competition?" she teased.

"I feel it is my best interest to study those I travel with," Leliana defended. "And Zevran deserves special scrutiny, as you are my friend.

"And he tried to kill me?" Garnet goaded.

The rogue chuckled. "True, but it seems you trust him, judging by your closeness. If you do, then I do to. You haven't led us astray yet."

Unexpected tears welled up in Garnet's eyes. "Leli, thank you," she almost whispered. "After Wynne, and Alistair, that... means a lot."

"Do not mention it," Leliana consoled, draping an arm around her shoulders. "Besides, you have good taste. He's an attractive one."

Her friend's observation caused Garnet to burst out laughing, earning confused stares from the rest of the camp. "Thanks. I rather like him myself." She grinned unabashed when she caught Zevran's eye. He returned her smile a little hesitantly, but he returned it none the less.

"I can tell," Leliana giggled.

"You've been smiling like that for weeks now," Morrigan said dryly, as she approached.

"Have I?" Garnet replied, biting her lower lip in an attempt to repress the aforementioned smile.

"Indeed. Every time you and that rogue Zevran shoot glances at each other, in fact," the witch stated, sitting down on her other side. "He has his charms, I'll give him that."

Garnet's eyes widened a little in surprise. "Why Morrigan, was that a compliment?" she laughed.

Truthfully, she was just happy the witch had sought them out. It was still rare for Morrigan to join them at camp, but she had a wicked sense of humour when she deigned to reveal it. The fact that the banter was distracting Garnet's turbulent mind, was a mere bonus.

"Well, he certainly must be _quite _something in bed for you to risk so much in order to be close to him," her fellow mage retorted.

"Yes, tell us, is he _very_ good in bed?" Leliana cajoled.

"Oh, you have no idea!" Garnet mimed fanning herself, before the three dissolved in a fit of barely controlled hysterics.

Even Morrigan's eyes were watering with effort by the time they had calmed themselves. "I see. Glad to hear it then," the witch smirked. "It is a bit sickening to watch you two, but I image it at least takes your mind from our situation."

"And yet, you came to find out the gossip too," Leliana pointed out, waggling a finger.

With a sigh, Morrigan rose to her feet. "Fine, have it your way. I'll just have to drink this by myself." Appearing from seemingly nowhere, the witch brandished a bottle of red wine.

"All hail the Witch of the Wilds, and her excellent taste in drinks," Garnet chortled.

She knew from experience that the wine would be of excellent vintage. For someone raised in the woods, Morrigan did have a unprecedented knack of choosing delicious wines. Less surprising, was her skill at hiding the bottles.

"I should think so," Morrigan said, deadpan. Before leading them to her personal camp fire.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**The two conversations with both Morrigan and Leliana always amused me, so I really wanted to included a variant of them. As well as add some more feels, because Zevran is still doing a really good impression of Fenris right now!  
The dagger is roughly based on a Crow dagger, I just wanted to make it a little more elaborate.  
Yes, I am hinting that Leliana encountered Rinna at some point in her past. The DA wiki states that some Orlesian noble families are tied to some of the great house of Antivan... I ran with that idea. I know Rinna is never described, but Zevran's comment of Antiva having 'dark haired beauties' prompted the image. And Nuncio is the same annoying ass from DA2.  
'ma chère' is French for 'my dear', as I assume we all think Orlesian as French.**


	38. A Return to Normality

**A Return to Normality **(Zevran PoV)

_'Three days' _he thought glumly, hunkering down further in his mound of blankets. Three very surreal days, even by their standards. It started with him spilling Garnet's blood, then his ill-advised idea to give her the dagger, followed by a detour that had them acquiring a walking, talking golem. One that called itself Shale and had more of an attitude than Morrigan, which was quite impressive. It had also been three days of increasingly cold weather, made all the more noticeable as it had been three days since he had shared a bed with Garnet. Really, it had been three days since they had even spoke, away from the necessities of camp life and battle at least.

The first night had been the result of the warden spending time with Leliana and Morrigan, something Zevran did not begrudge her, even though it had made him extremely paranoid. The second had been taken up by Alistair, presumably discussing warden business if the agonised look on her beautiful face had anything to go by. Zevran had debated going to her that night, but the fact they hadn't spoken since he gave her the dagger had given him pause. However, both Garnet and Alistair had fallen asleep next to the camp fire, making any thoughts moot. Tonight was the third night, and he was once again alone. He had no idea where Garnet was, or what she was doing. The last he had seen of the warden was when she was in deep conversation with the Shale, Bodahn and the dwarf's son Sandal. Presumably discussing the strange crystals they had found in Honnleath.

Gingerly, Zevran turned over. Shivering as he inadvertently moved a blanket, causing the cold air to blast past his defences. If he was less stubborn, he would have gone to her by now. If he was less of a coward, he wouldn't need to lie alone in bed, cold and wondering what she made of the dagger. Zevran wasn't worried if she was impressed by a gift or not, because it wasn't a gift. It was a simple necessity. If Garnet was serious about wanting to duel wield, she needed a fine blade to accompany the one that had been Duncan's. The issue was that the only suitable blade that were not either of his own weapons, had been one he had carried with him for years. One that had been kept as a reminder and as remembrance. One that had once been Rinna's.

"Zev?" The warden's soft voice was barely a whisper, and it wasn't until she had repeated herself that Zevran realise he was not hearing things.

"Mi querida, what a surprise," he greeted with false joviality.

"Can I come in?" Garnet asked, popping her head into his tent. A singular werelight accompanying her. "It's freezing out here."

"But of course," he replied without hesitation.

Zevran opened up the blankets for her as soon as she scurried inside. An unexpected smirk tugged at his mouth as he regarded her. Red hair blown askew by the frigid wind, and falling in front of her face. Cheeks pink from the cold, and her shapely legs bare. Exposed, for all she wore was a loose fitting white shirt, that upon closer inspection in the dim light, led Zevran to realise that it was his shirt. The one he thought he had left behind in the Brecilian Forest.

"No wonder you are cold," he teased, rubbing the thin cotton between his fingers to emphasis his point.

"What else am I going to wear when my bed-warmer has aparently quit?" she shot back, burying herself in the pile of blankets.

He couldn't help but chuckle when he remembered first offering that particular service to her. "I am sorry Cadoc has abandoned you in your time of need, Cariño," Zevran quipped. "I presume he is trying to get into our future king's good graces. Allow me to be your poor but faithful substitute."

His teasing earned him a half-hearted punch from the warden, before she snuggled closer to him. "Impossible elf," she chided, pushing several locks of hair out of her eyes.

"Indomitable woman," he retorted, grinning.

Garnet raised her eyebrow, a smile playing on her own inviting lips. "How is that an insult?" she demanded.

"It is not," Zevran agreed, quickly pulling her into his arms before she punched him again. _'I have been a fool' _he surmised, as her chilled legs entwined with his.

The warden hummed her approval, before lightly kissing his lips. "Thank you, for the dagger," she said, sending Zevran's heart pounding in his chest. "It's beautiful, I've never seen it's like before. Is it a Crow Dagger?"

"Yes," he managed to reply, despite how dry his mouth felt. _'Do I tell her?'_ he fretted, catching a slight glint in her emerald eyes. "A... modified one."

A small smile played on Garnet's lips as she regarded him. "Thank you," she repeated. "It was very sweet of you, to take the hassle out of finding a new blade for me."

Immediately, Zevran felt himself relax. Even though there was a questioning tone to her voice, he knew the warden wasn't going to press for an explanation, or enquire as to his motivation. Maybe she already knew or understood? Zevran wasn't sure, but he was grateful for her acceptance none the less.

"But of course," he chuckled. "A Grey Warden cannot go around wielding substandard equipment. Lest of all a piece of basura, like that old blade even Bodahn didn't want you to have."

"Well, if I'm going to trust anyone to chose a dagger for me, it would have to be a handsome and charismatic former Crow," Garnet replied, settling her head on his chest. "So tell me, do you actually enjoy being an assassin?"

The way her fingertips lightly grazed along the plain of his naked torso was a little distracting, but if she wanted to talk, Zevran was happy to indulge her curiosity. "And why not? There are many things to enjoy about being a Crow in Antiva. You are respected, you are feared, the authorities go out of their way to overlook your trespasses. Even the rewards are nothing to turn your nose up at," he explained, gently carding a hand through her tangled tresses. "As for the killing part, well... some people simply need assassinating. Or do you disagree?"

He could feel her smile against his skin before she replied. "You've never killed an innocent?"

A sigh escaped him, as he kissed her forehead. "Now there's an interesting word, innocent. How many men do you know that can claim to be truly innocent? But if you're talking generalities, such as children, relatives, bystanders and such... never on purpose. But it happens," he admitted. "It's unfortunate, but death comes to us all. If not me, then some wasting disease, or a fall down the stairs, or at the hands of a darkspawn. It's all relative in the end."

"I suppose that is true," Garnet agreed. "Though hopefully you don't drop many trees on them." There was a hint of teasing in her voice, that made Zevran think she would never let him live that down.

"Only the very special ones," he retorted, smiling as she kissed the underside of his jaw. "Death happens, as we like to say. And when I get paid for it, death happens more often. As far as enjoying the act of killing, why not? There is a certain artistry to the deed. The pleasure of sinking your blade into their flesh, and knowing that their life is in your hands."

At this, Garnet propped herself up on her elbows, and looked at him intently in the glow of the several werelights she summoned. "I take no pleasure in killing," she stated quietly.

"It is not pleasure, per say, nothing sexual," Zevran defended, eliciting an amused roll of the eyes from his companion. "It is more a sense of satisfaction, a feeling of power. Does that make sense?" A raised eyebrow is all he got in response. "No matter. There are many things I did not enjoy about being a Crow, of course. Having no choice, being treated as an expendable commodity..." Zevran realised that he was getting a little to close to serious with his last admission, so added: "And the rules! Oh so many rules." Which earned him a smile from the warden. "But, being an assassin, I like it just fine. I will continue to do it, if I can, even if I am not a Crow. Honestly, could you picture me doing something else?"

For a moment, Garnet starred at him with an odd look on her face, before she burst out laughing. "Maker! You really want me to answer that?" she grinned, wiping a tear from her eye. "A handsome man like you? I can think of a few things." She leant up to kiss his ear, making him shudder.

He couldn't help but laugh, even as he rolled her over onto her back. "I meant professionally," he chuckled as he braced himself above her. "Or maybe you mean professionally as well? Perhaps you plan to peddle my services to bored, Fereldan noble women. It is an interesting thought, but I've always removed my clothes strictly on an amateur basis."

"There's nothing amateur about you," Garnet teased, looking up at him through her lashes. "And I must admit, I'm not sure I would be willing to share with bored, noble women. Besides, I don't think they would be able to truly appreciate your mastery."

The thought that the warden wouldn't want to share him, made Zevran happier than he would have expected. And as her eyes lowered, he could well imagine her gaze raking over his body that was poised just above hers. Most likely settling on the part that was making it very clear he was happy to have her back in his bed.

"You are rather talented yourself, cariño," he complimented, tilting her head so he could capture her lips. "Though perhaps there are still a few things I could teach you."

* * *

**Author's Note**  
**Well, I think this chapter is pretty self-explanatory. Though, just in case someone doesn't know, Shale is acquired through the Stone Prisoner DLC. **


	39. A Winter's Tale

**A Winter's Tale **(Amell PoV)

Try as she might, no matter how far she buried her face into the fur lined collar of her cloak, or how tightly she clasped the edges of her oversized hood, the merciless cold still managed to attack. The skin of Garnet's face stung with the bitter chill, her fingers and toes were numb, despite being encased by fleece lined gloves and boots. Even Garnet's magic couldn't help warm her now, as she trudged up the steep mountain path, trying not to curse too loudly every time she sunk into knee high drifts of frigid snow. The terrain had become so difficult, that even Sandal and Cadoc had stopped enjoying the wintry landscape.

"And whose idea was it to come this way?" Morrigan demanded, her voice barely audible above the howling wind.

"Alistair!" Garnet and Leliana both shouted in unison.

"This is the only accessible path to Orzammar," the ex-Templar defended. "How could I know there would be a snow storm the day before we arrived?"

"One could simply look at the sky," Shale stated, dryly.

Or at least, it seemed to Garnet that the golem was being sarcastic, it was a little hard to tell. However, she could have sworn that Sten had almost cracked a smile, though the high collar of his cloak made it difficult to discern. Any thoughts of trying to elicit a further reaction from the Qunari were quickly quashed, as the next gust of wind buffeted so hard that Garnet was nearly blown off her feet.

"Are we not past such tactics, mi querida?" Zevran drawled, as he helped steady her after their slight collision.

Choosing to ignore his jibe, Garnet linked her arm through his, and the two walked huddled together as they continued up the winding incline. "Tell me more about your adventures," she implored, still having to raise her voice above the gale despite how close they were.

"Again?" Zevran chuckled, his voice muffled as he tucked his chin into his collar. "Well now, what might interest you I wonder? Shall I describe the stages involved in lanthrax poisoning? I watched a man go through all seven once."

Unsure if he was joking or not, Garnet gave a wry smile. Not that anyone could see past the barrier of her hood. "That sounds fun," she teased. "But sure, if you like then certainly. It has to beat counting the minutes until my fingers fall off anyway."

Zevran gave a snort of amusement. "No... I'll not inflict that upon you, just yet." He was silent for a moment, then gave a slight nod, evidently having made up his mind. "Let's see, how about the largest battle I ever took part in?"

"And I bet you were roguishly handsome throughout," Garnet quipped, burying her face into his shoulder as another violent gust swept down the path. "So what caused this battle?"

"My dear Grey Warden, I am beginning to wonder if you are becoming bias," Zevran replied, pushing a tangle of blonde locks out of his face. "Though, to answer your question, the cause of the battle would have been the slaughter of Prince Asrin. Did you hear about that, down in these parts?"

"You killed a prince?" she gasped, fairly impressed despite herself. _'He's definitely rubbing off on me'_ she thought ruefully, realising that not so long ago she would have been horrified by the thought. "And I'm not sure. Remember," she said, pointing at herself. "Locked up in a tower nearly all my life. It's not like the Templars keep us mages up to date." Just thinking about the tower, made her wonder how Cullen was, and if her letter had reached him or not.

A frown briefly flitted across Zevran's handsome face, as it often did when she mentioned the tower, before he squeezed her hand that was resting in the crook of his elbow. "Prince Asrin was fourth in line to the throne you see, he started off at eleventh but worked his way up by the old fashion method."

Garnet's eyes briefly flitted to him, as she found herself knee deep in snow again. "And that would be...?" she asked, giving Zevran a look that dared him to comment on her predicament.

"Inheriting control of an entire Crow cell from his grandfather," he explained, his eyes shining with amusement as he helped Garnet extricate herself from the drift. "After assassinating his way through the royal family, the king hired three other cells to take down Prince Asrin, once and for all. I was in one of those cells."

"Is this sort of thing common in Antivan?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, Zevran pulled her in close to his side as they continued to walk. "Antivan royalty is very much bound up in the Crows. You wouldn't want it run by a bunch of commoners, after all," he said, rolling his eyes for affect. "This means, they get involved in politics quite often. This particular fight nearly bankrupted the nation, I understand. It also nearly ended putting a Crow on the throne, a commoner. But that's a whole different story," he added, obviously seeing the intrigued look in her eyes.

Daring the cold for a moment to give Zevran a grin, Garnet took the opportunity to kiss his cheek, before burying her face back into the relative warmth her cloak provided. "So what did you do?" she asked, trying to ignore the raised eyebrow from Morrigan, and the wink Leliana gave her as they trudged past.

"I played a very small role, but my part in the entire battle was taken up trying to reach Princess Ferenna," he explained, causing Garnet to smirk inside her hood. "Who had thrown in with her brother. I killed about eleven of her guards, personally, before I got knocked out of a window."

Unable to help herself, Garnet burst out laughing, earning her an annoyed look from Wynne, and a bewildered look from Alistair. "That's not how I expected it to end when you mentioned a princess," she confessed, giving Zevran a brief squeeze in apology.

"You were expecting some sordid tale of seduction?" he chuckled, returning her one armed hug. "Alas, that did not happen. I landed in a river, and nearly drowned. I was fished out by some urchins, who robbed me blind, and made off with my boots too," he lamented. "But at least they didn't cut my throat," he added with a shrug. "And that was my part in history."

Despite, biting back another inappropriate laugh, Garnet's mind had grabbed hold of the detail of the boots. Several times Zevran had mentioned Antivan leather boots, it gave her an idea. However, there was nothing she could do now so instead, she couldn't help but ask: "You got robbed? By street urchins?"

Zevran narrowed his eyes at her in what she knew was a mock scowl. "Hmm... I had to make my way back to the safe house bruised and naked, and thankful to be alive. But there you go, tale told. Now perhaps we can find shelter before I tell anymore embarrassing stories?"

Stopping in the slight shelter of an evergreen tree, Garnet surveyed their surroundings. The sun was already beginning to disappear behind one of the other mountain peaks, though very few shadows were being cast by the weak light. It seems that Sten had noticed her intent, for he stepped up beside her, gesturing slightly up the path and to the right.

"The way the rocks are formed should give us shelter," the Qunari advised, pointing out an outcrop that seemed to form a large, and seemingly natural, alcove in the mountain face.

"Good location," Bodahn called in agreement. "Me and my boy camped there when we left Orzammar."

And with the dwarf's endorsement the deciding factor, the group went about setting up a rough camp. Well, all but Sandal and Cadoc, who resumed their game of chase, now that the wind had abated. The pair only managing to cause the minimum amount of mayhem in their wake.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****So was I the only one who thought Zevran's story would end differently? Lol. Obviously, they are all on their way to Orzammar, so in the next few chapters Oghren will be added to the mix!**


	40. A Bottle of Brandy

**A Bottle of Brandy **(Zevran PoV)

After taking a large swig of warming Antivan Brandy, Zevran hopped up onto the crumbling stone wall, and settled himself next to Bodahn. Offering the small bottle to the dwarf as he did so. Silently, Bodahn took the offered brandy, though only took a small sip before handing it back. There was a distant look in the dwarf's eyes as he regarded Sandal running around after Cadoc. It was a look that Zevran hadn't seen on Bodahn before, tense and almost forlorn. The expression was all the more unusual, for the merchant was usually one of the more genial of their travelling companions.

Normally, it was Garnet would be the first to realise something was wrong with one of the group. She would patiently sit and talk to whoever was having a problem, and without fail, would somehow manage to make them feel better. He should know, the fiery mage had managed to pull that feat of compassion on him countless times already. However, Garnet was off with Alistair, trying to wrangle them all access in to Orzammar, despite the city currently being closed to outsiders. And for some reason he couldn't quite explain, Zevran felt it was his duty to take Garnet's place and attempt to cheer their companion up.

"So, amigo, what is your story?" he asked, trying not to shiver as a cold blast of wind tried to relieve him of his cloak.

For a moment, Bodahn looked confused before simply shrugging. "Well, if you're really interested, I suppose it won't hurt to tell you."

There seemed to be an element of defeat about the dwarf, causing Zevran to wonder if any of them that had joined this crazy crusade, had done so without considerable baggage.

"Only if you are sure," he said cautiously, already feeling out of his depth.

Bodahn's gaze travelled from Sandal and came to rest on the opposing, coal black doors that hid the dwarven city from the rest of the world. "I am originally from Orzammar, I was a merchant there too." The dwarf gestured towards the doors. "Merchant caste. These things are in the blood, you know. You can't just leave them behind." There was a sadness to Bodahn's tone that made Zevran pass him the bottle of brandy again. "I ran a fairly successful business," the merchant continued. "Rare artefacts, you know; old things, grand things... the nobles loved them. Reminded them of the lost glory days, I suppose."

Zevran snorted. "It would seem nobles are the same everywhere, no?"

"That they are," Bodahn agreed. "One day a noblewoman came to my store, she looked around for a bit and then started shrieking in dismay. Apparently, she believed that a pair of bracers I had for sale once belonged to her brother. He'd been lost in a cave in, you see, while on expedition to clear out the darkspawn from one of the tunnels running close to the city. 'They were made especially for him. They're unique!' she shrieked. 'He stole them from my poor brother's corpse!' She had me arrested on the spot, of course."

Smiling wryly, Zevran nodded his head in understanding. "Ah nobles, they are touchy like that." He took a swig of the brandy before giving the dwarf a sideways glance. "So, did you steal them?" he asked, nonchalantly.

"Well _I_ didn't steal them," Bodahn defended, sighing. "You see, I had been paying these casteless thugs to venture out into the Deep Roads for me. The lost thaigs, they are full of things people left behind. Sometime you find treasure... something worth a little gold." Despite his calm manner, the dwarf seemed uncomfortable, perhaps almost embarrassed.

"Better to do something with them, than leave them to rot," Zevran shrugged in reply.

"That's exactly how I see it," the dwarf stated, giving him a grateful look. "The noblewoman, she didn't like the... 'theft' of her brother's bracers. I don't know what they planned for me, and I didn't want to find out. I bribed the guard that was watching me, collected my boy, and took off for the surface first opportunity I got. Never looked back."

Grinning with admiration, Zevran clapped a hand on Bodahn's shoulder. "A shrewd move, mi amigo," he affirmed, genuinely impressed with the quiet merchant. "Though my interest is piqued. Where _do _you get your goods from?"

The dwarf's shoulder's tensed for a moment, before falling almost in defeat. "Look, we... we don't rob people, all right? We don't take things from people who need them. The things in the lost thaigs... what good did they do lying there? I brought them back to Orzammar where people could look at them and remember. It's not all that different up here. There are places long-abandoned by the humans everywhere, even more now, with the darkspawn coming.

"You opportunistic scoundrel," Zevran laughed, handing over the bottle again. "Savvy, and it's better than having the darkspawn take it all, no?"

"That's what I tell myself too," Bodahn agreed, seeming to relax. "These are dark times indeed. Dark times, my friend."

"But is good to be among friends, is it not?" Zevran gestured vaguely in the direction of the warden. "I do not judge you, and neither does our dear Grey Warden," he said with some confidence. "Though I suppose it is prudent to maximise opportunities when they arise," he added when he noticed Leliana approaching them. "It is a shame you will not be joining us in Orzammar, but you are most likely right. Trade relations with these surface merchants will be more lucrative than any to be had in such an insular society."

The merchant looked visibly relieved at being given such a sound excuse, and smiled broadly as he handed back the bottle of brandy. "That is the way of business," Bodahn agreed, politely bowing to Leliana as he got down from his perch and went to round up his son.

"And what was that about?" the rouge asked, smirking slightly as she leant on the wall next to Zevran.

"Just discussing the nuances of business, mi ceilo," he replied, once again handing over the severely depleted bottle.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****First up, 'mi ceilo' translates as 'my sweet' in Spanish. And, of course, 'mi amigo' is 'my friend'. So, I just wanted a chapter that brought Bodahn into the story a little more, especially after the information you can find out about him. I also thought it would be a nice change for someone other than the warden to find things out about the group, and to show the Zevran is beginning to grow as a person. Even if no one else in the group is going to notice for a long while yet.**


	41. One More Night

**One More Night **(Amell PoV)

With a heavy sigh, Garnet sat down on the uncomfortable stone chair and rested her forehead against Zevran's shoulder, not caring what anyone thought. Honestly, she was mere seconds away from slamming her head against the granite table, the day had been such a nightmare. One that started with a fight with some of Loghain's men outside the doors to the city, encompassed helping reunite a dwarf named Zerlinda and her infant son with her parents, recovering a stolen tome for the Shaperate, and in return convincing the Shaperate to allow an Andrastian convert to open a tiny chantry. There had been a fight through the Carta hideout and competing, along with winning, a Proving tournament in the arena. It had even involved wrangling lost nugs, for Maker's sake!

"And what is to be your next trick, my dear Grey Warden?" Zevran drawled, subtly squeezing her thigh.

"Get that ass, Bhelen, crowned king," Garnet stated, feeling weary.

In truth, it had been a very fine line between Aeducan and Harrowmont, the two arguing factions. The former only gaining her support due to his ideas regarding the casteless dwarves and ties to the surface, though the rumours regarding the fate of his siblings had somewhat troubled her.

"Followed by exacting revenge on Loghain and defeating the blight," Alistair added cheerfully, banging down a brimming mug of what appeared to be ale in front of her.

After giving the brownish liquid a dubious sniff, Garnet shrugged. "What the hell," she muttered, before downing the drink. Her lips curled with distastes, and it was hard for her to repress a shudder as she sent the mug back down. "That was truly revolting," she announced, hoping against hope that wasn't the best that Tapster's had to offer. "So, we need to plan for our expedition tomorrow."

"Deciding who you wish to accompany you, would be most prudent," Morrigan stated. "It would be wise to leave some of us behind, in case a search party is required."

"And a time frame will be needed," Leliana added. "To know when a rescue should be mounted."

One quick glance at Alistair let Garnet know that she was, once again, fully in charge of this. "Alright," she agreed. "That can be decided once we've talked to the guards by the entrance to the Deep Roads. Other than that... Zevran, Alistair, Morrigan, I want you to join me on the expedition. We will also take Shale with us. I'm sure she doesn't want to spend weeks standing around the Hall of Heroes, after only just regaining the ability to move." She felt Zevran lightly squeeze her thigh again, and this time she was not sure what it was for. As thanks, perhaps? "Leli, I want you to keep an eye on Bhelen and Harrowmont," Garnet continued. "I don't want those two killing each other whilst we are in the Deep Roads."

"Of course," Leliana smiled. "Would you like me to check on Cadoc too?"

A faint smile pulled at Garnet's mouth, she was already missing her mabari, but it was much better for the war hound to wait for them on the surface with Bodahn and Sandal, than spending miserable weeks trapped under ground.

"I was actually hoping Sten wouldn't be adverse to that? As I'd like you to keep an eye on our two dwarves, I'm worried about them," she admitted.

Garnet doubted the Qunari would disagree, and not only because he would see it as an order. She knew he had a terrible soft spot for Cadoc, almost as large as his soft spot for chocolate chip cookies. Two things the behemoth would never admit to, along with his secret love of art, that only she and Morrigan knew about.

Sten eyed her critically, before nodding. "Agreed."

Biting the inside of her cheek to conceal a smile the Qunari would not appreciate, Garnet turned her attention to the last member of their group. "Wynne, after the poisoning of Lady Broden, I want to make sure a repeat can be quickly dealt with, should it happen. Work with Widron, and also see if he has any useful recipes we can use. Learn anything available, so you can pass it on to Morrigan and myself when we return."

She sat back, waiting for a reply from the older mage. Things still remained frosty between them since the Bracilian Forest, and Garnet felt her explanation was a lot better than: 'I don't want you and your disapproving stare following me around the Deep Roads'. Zevran also sat back in his chair, removing his hand from Garnet's thigh and draping his arm about her shoulders.

Wynne's right eye visibly twitched. "As you wish," the elder mage replied, coolly.

"So, provisions?" Alistair asked, tactfully moving the conversation along.

"No ale," Garnet decreed, smiling. She was backed by hummed agreement from both Zevran and Morrigan, who sat with barely touched mugs in front of them.

"Figor's Imports may be the most promising store in Orzammar itself, though I suggest we check with the surface merchants as well," Leliana advised. "Bodahn would also be a good source of information for the provisions you will need, no?"

"Good idea," she smiled, raising to stand. "And I don't know about you three..." she gave a pointed look to Zevran, Morrigan and Alistair in turn. "But I really want one more night out in the open before venturing into the Deep Roads, even if it is stupidly cold out there."

"I am sure I can find a way to warm you up, cariño," Zevran smirked, slipping an arm around her waist as he stood.

Garnet rolled her eyes in response, but didn't bother to hide her smile. The majority of their companions merely chuckled at the banter, with even Sten almost smiling. The Qunari was certainly frowning less, at any rate. However, unsurprisingly, Wynne shook her head at them and muttering: "Unprofessional" and "Inappropriate", the elder mage swept past them and exited the tavern.

"Do you have to antagonise her?" Garnet asked, unable to hide her smirk. She snaked her arm around Zevran's waist to return his gesture, and they followed Wynne out of Tapster's.

Before he could reply, Morrigan was walking beside them, close to Garnet. "The old crone's disapproval is her own problem," the witch promptly stated. "Do not trouble yourselves with trying to adhere to her high and mighty view point."

"As much as I hate to admit it," Alistair started, as he fell in beside Zevran. "I have to agree with Morrigan."

Coming to an abrupt halt, one that caused Zevran to bump into her, Garnet peered over the nearby railing. Gazing resolutely at the flowing river of lava that ran underneath the city, she pointedly ignored the confused looks that her companions were giving her.

"What are you doing, mi querida?" Zevran asked, sounding both amused and slightly perplexed.

"Just checking the lava hasn't frozen over," she quipped. "Since I never thought I'd see the day those two agreed on something." Laughing, she disentangled herself from Zevran, and deftly dodged a flick of ice that Morrigan sent her way.

"Friend though you may be, do not think I would not turn into a Flying Swarm and attack you," the witch warned, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
**So I wanted a chapter that explained why not everyone went into the Deep Roads. I also wanted to draw on some ideas that are sort of mentioned in the game, like the ale being made out of dirt and Sten liking cookies. **


	42. Conversations & Realisations

**Conversations and Realisations **(Zevran PoV)

An air of tension surrounded their small party, mainly generated by the two Grey Wardens, and only grew thicker as they made their way through the Hall of Heroes. There was something Garnet was not telling him, something Alistair also knew... Zevran was sure of it. There were glances shared between the pair whenever they thought no-one was looking, and a guarded look in their eyes whenever the Deep Roads were mentioned. It convinced Zevran there was something more troubling about the Deep Roads for the wardens than just the darkspawn. Though no matter how much he wanted to know, Garnet had always respected his privacy. She had never pried into topics he found difficult, so he vowed to do the same.

"She will speak of it, when it is time," Morrigan stated, unexpectedly. Her unnatural yellow eyes never wavering from Garnet's back as the two wardens walked ahead of them. "Whatever she is keeping, I expect it is a warden matter. She will seek council, if and when it is needed."

Hiding the majority of his surprise by merely raising an eyebrow, he regarded the witch. "Perhaps you are right," he agreed amicably, feeling only slightly reassured that he was not the only one to notice something amiss.

"Naturally," Morrigan scoffed. "And I must say, it is wily of you, Zevran."

Her statement caught him slightly off guard. "What is so wily of me, o magical temptress?" he asked, hiding his wariness behind playful banter.

"Getting in the good graces of the one who decides whether you live or die. Not to mention the one who can protect you against your former comrades," the witch replied rather icily, casting him a withering glare.

If Zevran hadn't known better, he could have sworn Morrigan was concerned about Garnet. "And I am supposed to believe you are here because of a... sense of patriotism, perhaps?" he teased. The slight indication of the witch's concern was only thing that stayed a more scathing retort.

For a moment, Morrigan looked repulsed. "Ha! Hardly that."

A smirk tugged at Zevran's lips. "We all have our reasons for doing what we do. Mine happens to come with a set of lovely eyes."

His admission seemed to answer whatever question the witch had sought answers to, for Morrigan merely nodding before _almost_ giving a smile and quickening her pace to catch up with the wardens. However, Zevran was not left alone for long. Mere seconds later, lumbering footsteps heralded Shale's approach.

"I have noticed that the painted elf seeks the attention of the Grey Warden," the golem proclaimed.

Zevran smirk grew wider upon hearing Shale's description of him, he rather liked it. "He certainly does," he agreed, though silently admitted that 'attention' no longer covered it. Zevran couldn't be sure, but he could have sworn that the golem snorted.

"I watched many such couplings during the time I spent immobile in Honnleath," Shale practically sneered. "Or should I say, forced to watch. You do know that this usually ends in reproduction. I've seen it, many times indeed."

For reasons beyond his comprehension, that was not a terrifying prospect. Which should have been frightened in and of it's own right. "Oh? That is not such a terrible thought," he admitted, rather surprised at his own words. "Creating new life can be a great deal of fun," he added, in case anyone, namely Garnet, overheard.

"So you say. I have no idea how a golem is created, but I doubt I shall be creating one anytime soon," Shale replied.

The image of golem procreation formed, unbidden, in his mind. "Just as well, I imagine," Zevran stated, slowly. "Any lover of yours would no doubt be quickly reduced to a puddle of bruises."

"So you see me winning the affection of another golem, do you?" Shale questioned. "Most golems are slaves to whoever holds their control rod."

Unsure if Shale realised her innuendo, or even if golems thought in that manner, Zevran valiantly fought the urge to outright laugh. "Funny, it works exactly the same way for us as well," he replied, deadpan. At that moment, Garnet glanced over her shoulder and gave him a wink, serving to finally draw out a chuckle from him.

Shale seemed ignorant to the interaction. "I am curious," she said at length. "Will the painted elf answer a question?"

"Why not?" Zevran shrugged, side stepping a dwarf who was too busy gwaking at the golem to pay attention to where he was walking. "We appear to have all day," he added, leaning against a stone wall whilst Garnet, Morrigan and Alistair stepped into Figor's Imports.

The golem came to a halt beside him. "The painted elf attacked the Grey Warden, and yet still lives. Had the decision been mine, it's skull would be so much pulp right now."

It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement, though Zevran could guess what the golem meant. "Oh, I don't know. Could you destroy something as pretty as I am, hmm?" he teased.

"Easily," Shale replied. "I fail to see how any measure of attractiveness would make one difficult to crush."

Once again, Zevran was unsure if the golem was goading him or not. "Perhaps you do not know how to look then," he suggested. "Take our Grey Warden, my good friend, right there we have an object worthy of worship, no?"

Though the words were said in a jovial manner, Zevran couldn't deny to himself he meant that in more than just a sexual context. _'Estoy en problemas!'_ he thought to himself, partially relieved and partially anxious when their three companions exited the store.

"Or take the Templar fellow," he added to hide his discomfort. "Rugged good looks, quick wit manly shoulders. Just getting him to hop borders is a challenge worthy of the great heroes."

"Hmm? Challenge?" Alistair mumbled, seeming to only just become aware of the conversation. "I'd happily hop borders, given the chance. I've never even been close to leaving Ferelden!"

At the Templar's words, both Garnet's and Morrigan's eyes widened, before the two woman exchanged glances. Though where the warden merely smirked, evidently holding in a chuckle, the witch laughed outright.

"What? Chantry life, then the wardens have given me little opportunity," Alistair defended, trailing after Morrigan as she walked away, still cackling.

"Squishy creatures," Shale grumbled, following them.

With a raised eyebrow, Zevran regarded Garnet as she walked towards him, and came to a halt well within his personal space. Without touching him, she leant forward, tilting her head to whisper in his ear. "If I'm not sharing you with Ferelden noblewoman, don't think I'm sharing you with the future king. Even if he is my brother." Lightly, she brushed her lips across his as she withdrew, pausing her retreat just outside his reach. "Or maybe that's the problem," she grinned.

Chuckling, Zevran pushed himself off the wall. Brushing his hand subtly against hers as they made their way to join the rest of their group. "Ah, so some other strapping fellow would be more appealing to you, no?" he teased. "Or perhaps you may feel more adventurous, with a diversion from your normal tastes?"

Despite the prospect being nothing new for him, Zevran doubted the idea had ever crossed Garnet's mind before. So he was completely surprised by the devilish smile she gave him in response.

"Perhaps," she winked, before quickening her pace to join the others.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****Well this chapter turned out nothing like I had planned! It's inspiration started off with wanting to show the cracks in Morrigan's aloof armour as well as Zevran's, however it ended up encompassing three of the in game party banters/interactions you can have. Also may be hinting at that infamous encounter at the Pearl... but you will have to keep reading to find out!  
For those who would like to know, 'Estoy en problemas!' means 'I'm in trouble' in Spanish.**


	43. What's One More Lunatic?

**What's One More Lunatic? ****(Amell PoV)****  
**

She was enjoying the look of intrigue, amusement with just a little lust that Zevran was giving her, to the point that it came as some surprised when a malodorous, red bearded dwarf suddenly stepped into their path. He stood like a boulder blocking their way and regarded the five of them with bleary eyes, as he swayed slightly.

"Stranger! Have you seen a Grey Warden hereabouts?" he asked in a gravelly voice, the stench of dwarven ale prevalent, even as Garnet took a step back. "I understand that he... or was it she... you understand this was many mugs ago, was searching for Branka on Prince Bhelen's own command."

Glancing at her companions, Garnet was somewhat relieved that she wasn't the only one that had recoiled. Zevran's hand on the small of her back was a little comfort, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from smiled, as he whispered in her ear: "It is refreshing he admits this, no?"

Knowing that Zevran was in one of his playful moods, not that anyone else could tell he actually_ had_ different moods, Garnet thought to indulge him. If only slightly. "What does this warden look like?" she asked the dwarf matter of factly. The question raised simultaneous eyebrows from both Morrigan and Alistair.

The drunken dwarf seemed to ponder this for a moment, gently swaying side to side. "Stout and muscular," he said eventually. "Fair of face, but with a strong jaw and a bold nose. Surrounded by a great glowing nimbus." The dwarf's gaze seemed to drift towards Alistair for a moment, his blurry eyes narrowing.

"He does describe our dear Templar so well, does he not. Or do you disagree?" Zevran muttered, just loud enough for only Garnet to hear, and left her needing to bite the inside of her cheek harder.

Before she knew it, the dwarf was focusing... though that was really too kind a word, his attention back on her. "If she's a woman, she might be more slight, but her eyes will shine with the light of purity and her large but chaste bosom will heave magnificently," he stated, drunkenly looking her up and down.

Garnet braced herself for some witty retort from Zevran, but instead, she felt his hand discretely brush down the length of her arm. The soft leather of his gloves was pleasant against her skin. Daring to risk glancing over her shoulder, she found Zevran regarding her with open affection that well and truly eclipsed the realms of desire. It could have almost been a romantic moment, right up until the dwarf gave a loud, repugnant belch.

"I've been looking for hours, but I haven't seen anyone who looks like that. Very frustrating," the dwarf complained.

"Then he is blind," Zevran murmured.

Her mouth twitched at the corner, desperately wanting to smile. "You may want to look right here," she stated, gesturing between herself and Alistair.

The drunk took a step back, eyeing them both critically, before shaking his head. "Well, if you're the best they've got, then standards must have fallen way down."

Garnet physically felt Zevran tense behind her, and managed to position herself so that her body was discretely touching the length of his, halting any reaction. Shale gave a bark of laughter, as Alistair spluttered indignantly. Morrigan caught Garnet's eye, the witch was trying to hide her grin behind her hand, and actual amusement was dancing in her eyes. The insult was worth it to see her friend's cold demeanour slip.

"Though I suppose that would account for an elf being down here," the dwarf stated. His gaze fixing on Zevran.

It was Garnet's turn to tense, ready to defend her lover from any racial slur that might be hurled his way. Though thankfully that never came. Instead the drunk looked between her and Zevran, perhaps noticing their postures through his inebriated stupor, and merely raised an eyebrow. Though instead of a question, the gesture came off quite lecherous.

"Say, could I ask you a favour?" the dwarf continued, still slightly swaying side to side.

Her eyebrow raised on it's own accord. "That's how you butter someone up to ask them for help?" Garnet asked. She knew Alistair would be incredulous, she on the other hand couldn't help but smirk.

The dwarf chuckled at her. "Name's Oghren, and if you ever heard of me before, it's probably all been about how I piss ale and kill little boys who look at me wrong."

"An interesting introduction," Zevran observed, his own smirk evident in his voice.

Oghren laughed. "It's mostly true. But the part they never say is how I'm the only one still trying to save our only Paragon. And if you're looking for Branka, I'm the only one who knows what she was looking for. Which might be sodding helpful in finding her."

Garnet appraised the stocky dwarf. Fully taking in his obviously drunk state, his unruly red hair and braided beard. Despite his stupor, he worn heavy plate armour with a great battleaxe strapped to his back. Honestly, she was surprised he hadn't simply fallen over from the combination of weight and inebriation. It was quite an impressive feet that he was still vertical at all.

"If you know this, why haven't you gone after her yourself?" Alistair questioned, sounding quite terse.

The scowl Oghren levelled at the Templar was actually fairly intimidation, even with the unstable swaying factored in. "Believe me, I have," he rumbled. "But where she's going, it's a lost thaig. No one's seen it in centuries. I searched as far as I could, but..." He broke off, a look of melancholy briefly flashing in his grey eyes, before he shook his head. "It would take teams of warriors searching weeks on end to cover enough ground to hope to find it. Which, I assume, is just what Bhelen's men have done. And they shared what they found with you. But they haven't found Branka herself, and that means whatever they've got, it's not enough if you don't know what she was looking for." Oghren had grown oddly coherent and decidedly less drunk acting as he spoke. "If we pool our knowledge, we stand a better chance of finding Branka. Otherwise, good sodding luck."

Garnet's smirk had morphed into a full smile by this point. It was beyond obvious to her, that this Oghren was deeply invested in finding the paragon, and most likely it wasn't for the same reason every other dwarf wanted her found. The way he looked when speaking Branka's name, it was obvious she was someone dear to him. And drunkard or not, it was no small feet to remain upright with so much heavy armour and weaponry weighing him down. She hadn't been able to garner much knowledge of the world outside the tower whilst she had travelled with Duncan, but Garnet did remember his lecture about the dwarves. And if his tales were to be believed, this Oghren was obviously Warrior Caste, which meant he'd be handy in a fight.

"Sounds like we have a deal," she grinned, crossing her arms over her chest. "You have a half hour to gather supplies."

"No need," the dwarf stated, disappearing around the corner he'd previously emerged from.

"Garnet? Are... are you certain that's a good idea?" Alistair asked, his brow furrowed.

"Why? Do you think I have enough armed lunatics following me already?" she retorted, her tone sickly sweet.

At that moment, Oghren returned with a heavy looking pack slung over one shoulder. "What's one more?" he chuckled darkly.

"'Tis true, one more dangerous follower will hardly upset the balance," Morrigan stated in her usually haughty manner, but the wicked gleam in her yellow eyes told Garnet the witch was enjoying seeing the Templar squirm.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****Obviously this chapter focuses on recruiting Oghren. I always felt that Alistair could possibly get insulted by the dwarf, Morrigan would be amused and Zevran could feel a little defensive of the warden if they were romance. Thus, this happened!**


	44. Humbling Words

**Humbling Words **(Zevran PoV)

The bleak tunnel was constantly illuminated with a luminous orange glow, cast from the ever present lava. The hot, liquid magma flowed along the same contours as the centuries old, stone pathway did. There was something poignant about traipsing through the ruins of a once magnificent empire. The sombre atmosphere was even being to affect him, along with the moods of his companions. Even Garnet's radiant smile had made less of an appearance, the deeper they traversed. Now, a week into their exploration, her smile only graced her lips in the quiet moments when they lay together, entwined in each others' arms.

The sound of water slowly seeping through the cracks in the rocks was the only sound, save for the crackling of the fire they had set up. Lit thanks to a small fireball from Garnet, as she had walked past where they sat. It was only a small cooking fire, required only to heat up some of the basic soup of mushrooms and dried meat, that Morrigan had created the day before. Since the lava made the tunnel unbearably hot, the constant threat of darkspawn attack was the only thing that kept Zevran fully clothed and armoured.

"All right, I guess you aren't all that bad," Oghren declared as he flopped himself down in front of the camp fire.

Alistair eyed the dwarf warily, though Zevran simply chuckled. "You just decided that, did you?"

The dwarf shrugged. "Well, I've watched you fight. You could be worse."

Zevran laughed outright at that, earning him a raised eyebrow from Garnet who stood a few feet away, studying the pattern on the tunnel wall by werelight. "From you, that's practically a proposal of marriage," he teased.

Oghren threw him what could be seen as a filthy look. Though the dwarf could, quite as easily, be going crossed eyes from the copious amount of ale he'd quaffed already that day. "Don't get excited or nothin'. You're not what I'm looking for in a wife." The dwarf's gaze shifted unceremonious to Garnet, who had turned back to studying the wall. "And it figures she'd go for an elf," Oghren stated, gruffly.

Raising an eyebrow, Zevran regarded the dwarf, suspecting where this was heading. "She who?" he asked, nonchalantly.

If he were to be honest, he had been expecting more animosity than what he had faced so far, regarding his relationship with Garnet. The last person who had actually voice an objection had been Wynne, back in the Bracilian Forest. So it seemed to Zevran like he was due some grief. Things had been going mostly smoothly for him and Garnet, after all.

The dwarf snorted. "You and the warden. We all know what's going on there."

"Oh? Does that make you jealous, my stout little friend?" he replied, glibly. If this conversation was going to happen, he at least intended to have fun with it.

"Me? Ha! Last thing I need is another woman in my life," Oghren chuckled, before taking a hearty swig out of his flask.

Zevran couldn't help wrinkling his nose in disgust. The smell was truly revolting. "One wife enough for you, is she?"

The dwarf seemed to mull over his words. That, or he was trying not to belch... Zevran wasn't sure, but the look on Oghren's face was amusing. "Ha. Branka is only slightly more woman than I am," he said at last. "Bristle-chinned poetess."

A smirk pulled at Zevran's lips. This was not the direction he had expected their exchange to head in. "Shocking that our fair Grey Warden didn't choose you instead," he goaded.

Oghren grunted in agreement. "Wonders never cease." The dwarf paused for a moment, his gaze falling to where Garnet was now standing with Morrigan, talking quietly to Shale. He muttered something under his breath, before turning his attention back to Zevran. "Well... good luck with that."

"Why, thank you ever so much," Zevran replied, his tone consciously light hearted to hide his surprise.

"So what _are_ your intentions with her?" Alistair asked suddenly, beginning to ladle the bubbling soup into bowls.

Zevran resisted the urge to narrow his eyes in suspicion at the warrior. It was not so long ago, that he suspected something between the two wardens. "You speak of Garnet as if she is not present. She is just right over there, you know..."

Alistair scowled as he handed over a bowl. "Don't dodge the question, I'm serious."

Unable to help himself, Zevran hummed in amusement. "Do I detect a bit of jealousy there? Or is this brotherly concern? Feeling territorial, are we? Or perhaps you are concerned for me, yes?" he goaded.

The Templar looked ready to argue, before sighing loudly and shaking his head. "I am just asking what your intentions are. You did try and kill us, remember?" he stated, passing a bowl of soup to Oghren, who sat quietly watching the conversation unfold.

"And now I owe her a blood debt, as she spared my life. And our travels have brought us..." Zevran trailed off, as he glanced towards the women. A smile tugged at his mouth as Garnet looked over at that moment and winked at him. "Closer together," he finished, earning an amused snort from the dwarf.

"Is that a smirk? Are you smirking at me?" Alistair demanded, incredulously.

Valiantly, Zevran tried to school his face. "I assure you, Ser, that I am not smirking. No smirking here, no." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Oghren's shoulder's shaking with the effort of holding in laughter.

"Well, just... watch yourself, then," the Templar replied. It would have sounded like a threat, if Alistair didn't seem so deflated. "I'll be keeping an eye on you."

Three sets of footsteps sounded behind Zevran, two light and one noticeably heavier. "Wards are set," Garnet announced, as she bent down, her legs pressed against his back and arms sliding around his neck in a loose embrace. "Are you boys behaving?" she asked, before kissing his cheek sweetly.

As both the mages sat down with them, Morrigan between Alistair and Zevran, Garnet between Zevran and Oghren, Shale chose to walk to the other side of the tunnel. The golem seemed like an immense, stone sentinel. Both ladies accepted the bowls of soup that the Templar offered them, though only the warden uttered words of thanks.

Feeling impish, Zevran turned his attention to the Witch of the Wilds. "Has anyone told you what marvellous eyes you possess, my dear," he drawled.

Morrigan rolled her yellow eyes. "Again with the flattery? Do you not tire from these pointless exercises?"

"In Antiva, women are accustomed to being showered with the praise they deserve. Men should worship you at your feet as you pass," he replied, deadpan. Actually, he was being fairly honest, Morrigan was a striking woman, she just didn't compare to the ravishing beauty sitting to his right.

"They don't find that incredibly annoying?" the witch asked, arching an eyebrow.

"They are goddesses receiving their subjects, just as you should be," Zevran argued. A cheeky smile was forming on his lips, one he knew Garnet adored. "Whatever would be annoying about that?"

"I have no wish to be placed upon a pedestal," Morrigan said, waving her hand dismissively as she set her now empty bowl on the ground.

Zevran tutted at her. "But you deserve no less. You should be admired by painters, copied by sculptors, exalted by poets," he declared. "Surely you know that yours is a beauty so exotic it..." Zevran paused, looking for the right phrase, teasing but not insulting. He wasn't one for hurting people's feelings unnecessarily, especially a woman's. "It would turn the eye of the Maker himself!"

"I... suppose..." Morrigan stuttered, uncharacteristically flustered.

She was cut off by a guffawing laugh from Oghren. "And you let your boyfriend get away with that?!" the dwarf grinned, looking at Garnet.

Boyfriend. That was an unexpected term to hear himself described as. There was certainly no denying they were lovers, but even after giving her Rinna's dagger, Zevran hadn't allowed himself to hope for anything more than a passing dalliance. Despite how he found himself wanting more. The realisation was unnerving, and he wasn't brave enough to broach the subject with Garnet, fearing she didn't feel the same.

However, she merely chuckled at the dwarf's question. "My boyfriend's a public menace. But I wouldn't change him for anything." Garnet punctuate her declaration glancing at Zevran, and giving him an affectionate smile.

Inexplicably, Zevran felt his chest constrict at her words, at her smile. "Usted me humildes, mi amora," he told her, returning her smile. And for the first time, Zevran allowed himself to hope.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
**So I love the party banter, especially between Zev &amp; Oghren, thus... this chapter! The majority from the dialogue is from the game, I just wanted to tweak it so that it flowed into an entire conversation that seemed plausible.  
Spanish translation: 'Usted me humildes, mi amora' means 'You humble me, my love'.**


	45. Deeper Underground

**Deeper Underground **(Amell PoV)

Tiredly, Garnet ran a hand through her knotted red hair, trying not to grimace when her fingertips brushed over a clump of spider ichor that she'd previously missed. The Deep Roads had been nothing short of a claustrophobic nightmare. Fight after fight, after Maker cursed fight. Spiders, shades, deepstalkers and darkspawn had hampered their progress. Though the occasional golem had seemed to upset Shale more than anything else, which Garnet could fully appreciate. They'd been travelling a week so far, and now found themselves in Ortan Thaig. She had managed to find some ancient documents that Orta had asked them to search for, presumably only so well preserved due to the almost airless conditions of the old Thaig. They had even destroyed a Fade Beast once and for all, though that fight had left them with several injuries a piece, thankfully all minor.

However, despite all that, it was the sight of Ruck that bothered Garnet the most. Alistair had glanced at her sideways when they had first set eyes on the dwarf turned ghoul. Her fellow warden had been their when she'd encountered Filda, and though Garnet's heart went out to the woman, she couldn't help but wonder if Ruck's fate was shared by the wardens who came here on their calling. The faintly green hue to Alistair's skin made Garnet think her brother in arms was having similar worries.

"Go away, this is mine!" Ruck yelled, startling her from her gloomy thoughts. "Only I get to plunder it's riches!"

"It's all right, I just want to talk to you," Garnet said gently.

She passed her bow to Zevran who glared at her, obviously not liking that she seemed to be disarming. Giving an almost imperceivable shake of her head, Garnet sent out the barest hint of lightening to tingle his skin as their fingers touched. It was a silent reminder to him, that she was far from helpless. As she turned from Zevran, Garnet lightly tapped her thigh, indicating to where the dagger he had given her was securely strapped beneath her robe. Duncan's blade was secured in a mirror image on her other thigh. No, even without her bow, Garnet was far from unarmed. She simply hoped Ruck saw this as a gesture of some faith on her part.

"No! No talking, you leave my territory!" the once dwarf demanded.

Despite his stooped posture and unkempt beard, along with his threadbare armour, he still seemed quite an opposing figure. Not in the way that Alistair did with his broad chest and heavy armour, or Zevran with his gleaming eyes and air of danger, nor Oghren's crazed and drunken swagger. Ruck had a wilder, more unpredictable manner.

"I'm not here to steal anything, I promise," Garnet soothed, holding her hands palm up in a placating gesture.

Ruck swung his head back and forth like a mabari in distress, before he cocked his head to the side, looking at her curiously. "Pretty lady..." he said slowly. "Pretty eyes, pretty hair. Smells like the steam of burning water. Blue, like the deepest rock. So... the pretty lady won't take anything from Ruck? You won't take Ruck's shiny worms or pretty rocks?"

"I just want to talk," Garnet smiled kindly. "I promise I won't take anything. None of us will."

That seemed to placate the strange man in front of them. "Oh, Ruck not mind that," he stated, giving her a blackened tooth grin.

Now that they seemed to have his trust, at least for the moment, she decided to start off with a fairly easy topic. "So your name is Ruck?" Garnet asked gently.

"Ruck not pretty name, not pretty like lady. Ruck is small, ugly, twisted," he replied.

Garnet's heart broke for him, the poor creature that was once a bright young dwarf. A young man turned ghoul, all because of happenstance and bad luck. "I think I met your mother, is her name Filda?"

"Nnnno, no, no. No Filda, no mother," Ruck cried out, obviously distraught. "No warm blanket, and stew, and pillow, and soft words! Ruck doesn't deserve good memories. No... no, no, no, no!"

"Dios bueno," Zevran muttered, his tone hard to describe. When she glanced at him, Garnet saw the pity in his eyes, as he regarded the broken dwarf.

"Shhhe, she did not know," Ruck continued, almost as if he hadn't heard the interruption. He swayed from side to side as he spoke. "Not what I did. I was very... very, very, very angry. And then someone was dead. They wanted to send Ruck to the mines. If Ruck went to the mines, she would know. Everyone would know. So I... came here, instead. Once you eat, once you takes in the darkness, you... not miss the light so much." The dwarf looked at Garnet then, his brown eyes startling clear and intent. "You know, do you not?" he asked, suddenly seeming very calm. "Ruck sees... yes. He sees the darkness inside you. Both of you," he added, turning his unwavering gaze towards Alistair.

The Templar visibly baulked, taking a step away from the raving dwarf. Whilst Garnet took a step to her right, blocking Zevran's path to Ruck. The elf scowled at her, his murderous intent clearly visible in the set of his jaw. She smiled at him sadly, hating the look of confusion and hurt that now clouded his amber eyes. Warden rules be damned, Garnet couldn't stand to see her lover looking like a kicked puppy.

"I'll explain later," she promised in a whisper, squeezing Zevran's hand before turning back to Ruck. "You may be right," Garnet replied calmly, despite the dwarf's troubling words. "Though we should tell your mother you're alive."

Ruck shook his head in vehement disagreement. "No, no. She cannot. She remembers a boy. Little boy with bright eyes, and a hammer and she cannot see this!" Unexpectedly, the dwarf lurched forward and grabbed Garnet's wrist in a vice like grip. "Swear," he begged. "Promise. Vow you won't tell!"

Ignoring the pain from his hold, Garnet patted his hand with her free one. "Would you prefer she thought you were dead?" she asked gently.

"Yes," he admitted, letting go of her wrist and shuffling away from her, eyes downcast. "Tell the mother, Ruck is dead. He's dead and his bones are rotting in the crawlers' webs and she should... never look again."

Garnet's brow furrowed, lying left a bitter taste in her mouth, especially with everything that had happened with Jowan. But it would perhaps be kinder in this instance. "Alright," she acquiesced. "I'll tell her you died bravely."

Her agreement was greeted with another black toothed grin. "Pretty lady is like mother, yes? Too good, too pretty for the darkness." Ruck hurriedly shuffled away then, disappearing behind a large boulder, only to reappear moments later brandishing a large, leather bounded tome. "Ruck heard you talking," he stated, eagerly handing the book to Garnet. "Talking about friends. You are good friend, Ruck help."

A wave of apprehension hit her, though she managed to smile at the dwarf. Cautiously, Garnet opened the tome, worried what she may find inside. She was surprised by what she saw. "It's a journal," she stated, glancing at Oghren.

The red haired dwarf barrelled past Alistair, coming to hover over Garnet's shoulder, as she knelt on the hard, stone floor. Careful not to drop the heavy book, she titled it towards the flickering light of Ruck's camp fire, hoping the once dwarf wouldn't mind. Oghren made a noise akin to a grunt.

"Looks like Branka's writing. Never could read her blasted scrawl," he grumbled.

Squinting at the script, Garnet could empathise, though years of deciphering Irving's writing had set her in good stead. "We found evidence today that the Anvil of the Void was not built in Ortan Thaig," she read aloud. "We will go south, to the Dead Trenches. The Anvil is somewhere beyond." Garnet paused, troubled by what she saw next, and glanced up at Oghren.

"Well woman, what else does it say?" he asked gruffly, crossing his arms across his chest.

With a sigh, Garnet returned to reading the journal entry. "My soldiers tell me I am mad, that the Dead Trenches are crawling with darkspawn, that we will surely die before we find the Anvil... if we find it." She swallowed thickly, not liking the direction this writing was heading. "I leave this here in case they're right. If I die in the Trenches, perhaps someone can yet walk past my corpse and retrieve the Anvil. For if it remains lost, so do we all." Once again, she paused looking up at the dwarven warrior.

"There's more," he stated, nodding towards the tome.

"If I have not returned and Oghren yet lives, tell him... No, what I have to say should be for his ears alone," she read. "This is my farewell."

"Branka was thinking about me," Oghren mumbled, sounding a little dazed. "I knew she still cared, old softly" he said, almost to himself, before he shook his head. "Looks like the Dead Trenches are our next stop then." He lay a hand on Garnet's shoulder. "They say the darkspawn nest there. Whole herds of them. But if that's where Branka went, that's where I'm going."

Brushing herself off as she stood, Garnet handed the heavy tome back to Ruck. "Can you keep this safe for me?" she asked, not wanting to haul the thing around with them, but knowing it was too important to her companion to just leave to rot.

The broken dwarf nodded enthusiastically. "Ruck helped?"

"Ruck helped," Garnet agreed, smiling.

She turned to her companions, noting Morrigan's barely concealed look of disgusted and Alistair narrowed eyes. Shale stood some distance away, seeming to guard the entrance to Ruck's little enclosure.

"We'll head down to that river we saw," she instructed. "Get cleaned up and make camp in one of the abandoned dwellings for the..." she paused, trying to think if 'night' was the appropriate word. Time had lost nearly all meaning whilst they had been down here.

"Next few hours?" Zevran offered. "Resting and spending time nursing our wounds, no?"

"That's not the reasoning I expected from you," Alistair stated, without a hint of humour in his voice, as the group began to walk away from Ruck's clearing.

"No? Making passionate, sensual love to a beautiful woman is a given, my friend," the assassin replied, flippantly. "Perhaps you should try it sometime."

Morrigan and Garnet exchanged glances, both biting back to urge to laugh. Though it was Oghren who broke the following silence with a great guffaw. "His balls would need to drop first!"

* * *

**Author's Note**  
**Sorry, sorry to anyone who thinks I'm 'Alistair bashing'. I'm not, I swear. This just seems something Oghren would come out with, and Alistair does have a tendency to set himself to be the butt of a joke! Also, I always felt a little (quite a bit actually) sorry for Ruck, I've never killed him &amp; wanted him to have his own little section, thus this chapter. For those who would like to know, 'Dios bueno' is Spanish for 'Good God'.**


	46. Unimagined Promises

**Unimagined Promises **(Zevran PoV)

He found her sitting atop one of the ruined stone walls, that ran the length of the surprisingly sweet tasting stream. All traces of their previous battles were gone, either washed away in the fast flowing water, or healed by a mixture of injury kits and mild health poultices. The supplies being used instead of magic, since the mages had decided it was safest to maintain their mana levels until it was a necessity. Something Zevran could fully support, especially when it left Garnet looking less weary than she had since they had entered the Deep Roads.

"A copper for your thoughts, cariño," he said softly, as he hopped up behind her.

Garnet gave a tired sigh. "Do you value my thoughts so little?" she teased, a gentle smile on her lips as her head fell back against his shoulder.

"Your thoughts, like the rest are you, are worth more than the royal jewels of Antiva," Zevran replied smoothly.

He began to card his hands through her still damp hair. Gently, he teased out the few lingering knots her red tresses had, before slowly rubbing her scalp with his fingertips. Enjoying being able to take a quiet moment alone with her.

"And I'm supposed to be the mage," Garnet smiled, relaxing further into him. "Don't know what I'd do without you." She seemed so sincere when she spoke, and her words warmed him more than he cared to dwell on.

"You would have a colder bed, and less attractive things to look at," Zevran chuckled, hoping to hide how inexplicably flustered he felt.

A hum of possible agreement, or perhaps it was more from enjoyment, greeted his ears as his hands trailed down her neck to massage her shoulders. "And no one to make me putty in their hands," Garnet giggled before lapsing into silence. "I suppose I owe you an explanation," she said at last.

Her tone was belying the smile she was trying to wear. And despite how badly Zevran wanted to know what plagued his warden's mind, he had long ago decided he would not push. She had given him the gift of patience, he would gladly try and do the same for her.

"You do not owe me anything, mi amora," he replied, lightly kissing the top of her head, whilst his arms slipped around her waist.

He felt Garnet tense in his loose embrace, for a moment he was perplexed, until realisation hit. Closing his eyes, Zevran cursed himself silently for the slip. Though he had thought it a few times privately, and suspected it had slipped out once or twice before, the words were not an endearment he ever intend to utter. He doubted Garnet understood the words, but the emotion behind them had been undeniable.

Just as he was debating withdrawing from her, hoping this moment would simply blow over by the morning, Zevran felt Garnet's small hand curve possessively around his knee. She turned her head, and caught the underside of his jaw with a lingering kiss. Daring to look at her, Zevran was greeted with a look he never dared hope to see Garnet direct at him. A look that at one time meant all the things he knew to be dangerous, a folly, and something he didn't deserve. But now craved more than anything. Unsure what to say, that wouldn't make him a bigger fool than he already seemed, Zevran gently stroked down the bridge of her nose. Adoring the way she wrinkled it once his finger reached the tip.

"You mean a great deal to me, Zev," Garnet said at length, almost as if she were afraid of his reaction. "You deserve to know... if you want to, that is."

Catching hold of her wringing hands, he brought her tighter to his chest. It was not as pleasant as when they were not wearing armour, but it was still enjoyable to hold her like this. "If you are of a mind to tell me, I am happy to listen, mi querida."

Sighing, Garnet wriggled her fingers to entwine them with his. "This has the same weight as your revelations about the Crows," she advised, her soft voice low and serious. "To join the wardens, you have to undergo the Joining. A recruit must drink from a chalice filled with darkspawn blood, not all survive." She paused, her grip on his fingers tightening. "There were three of us supposed to undertake the ritual, I was the only one who survived."

Frantically, Zevran's mind processed what he hand just been told, storing the 'supposed to' for a later date. He had a feeling there was more to being a warden than what Garnet had already revealed, especially with how tense she sat in his embrace.

"Cariño," he murmured. Zevran was unsure what else to say, so he showered the side of her face with feather light kisses, until she relaxed against him once more.

"Obviously, we become tainted," Garnet continued quietly. "It's how Alistair and myself can sense the darkspawn. I'm not sure why it kills some instantly, and not others, I just know it does. The ones of us it doesn't..." she paused, turning to bury her head into the crook of his neck. The gesture surprised Zevran, but he merely tightened his hold of her. "It's still killing us, slowly," Garnet continued, her voice becoming shaky. "We get twenty, maybe thirty years if we are really lucky. Though some only get ten..."

When her voice trailed off, Zevran felt his chest constrict. Clenching his teeth together, he closed his eyes tightly. Garnet was too good, too sweet, too lovely for this fate. "Did you know this, before..." his voice cracked, much to his chagrin. He hated showing so much emotion. Not only did it leave him feeling vulnerable, but Zevran felt that she need him to be strong for her.

However, Garnet didn't comment on it, merely shifting her weight until she could wrap her arms around his waist. "No," she admitted, though she didn't sound bitter or sad. "And I can't blame Duncan for not telling me, I know a lot wouldn't join if they knew."

"You would have?" he asked, incredulously.

"What life would I have had locked in a tower?" she asked conversationally. "I may be dying, but at least I'm getting to live first."

An immense, and a slightly unexpected, feeling of pride washed over him as he looked down at the woman in his arms. "Eres una maravilla," he whispered into her slowly drying hair. For a moment, he wondered if he had gained the right to push a little. He wasn't entirely sure, but Zevran decided to pose a question anyway. "But that is not what troubles you, there is something more, no?"

He felt more than heard Garnet inhale deeply. "It is not," she admitted at length. "When a warden nears the end of their life, they under go what is known as The Calling. Often alone, though sometimes in a pair or a small group, wardens come to the deep roads. We are told it is because of an urge to kill as many darkspawn as possible before our time is up. But now..."

"You wonder if there is more to it than that?" Zevran prompted.

"Yes," Garnet all but whispered in reply. "Seeing Ruck, I wonder if that's what becomes of us. Could this Calling be another secret, another lie to hide the truth. Was the Calling cooked up to hide the fact we become ghouls, even from ourselves?"

The warden was physically shaking as she spoke, and Zevran tightened his arms around her, hoping to ease her concerns. He had never seen her like this, afraid and worried, it humbled him that she would allow him to see her so vulnerable. "Does Alistair suspect the same?" he asked cautiously.

Garnet shrugged. "I do not know. You are the only one I've spoken to about this."

Her admission made Zevran's eyes widen in shock. He had never once thought she would come to him with a concern instead of her fellow warden. A feeling a fierce protectiveness washed over him, one that would have been frightening, if he had been thinking more clearly. However, he wasn't.

"If you are correct, I will do everything in my power to stop that from happening," he told her, his voice low and rough.

If Zevran were to be honest with himself, he doubt they would last that long. Death was a near certain threat during every battle, either one of them could die any day. And if, by some miracle, they both got through all this alive, he couldn't image Garnet would stay with the likes of him. Though some part of him knew, even if she ended their entanglement, he would still be there for her. She had been a friend when he didn't deserve one, his only true friend. It was something that would take the rest of his life to repay.

"Even if...?" Garnet asked hesitantly, seemingly unable to finish the sentence.

Zevran could clearly hear the unspoken question. 'Even if you have to kill me' was what she was asking. And though it pained him to do so, Zevran found himself agreeing, and meaning it. Despite the bad taste it left in his mouth.

"Even if..." he promised through gritted teeth.

The answering sigh of relief shocked him almost as much as the tightening of her arms. "Thank you," she whispered, audibly sounding relieved and close to tears. "Thank you."

* * *

**Author's Note  
****Well this turned out more bitter sweet, and also more fluffy than I ever imagined it would! I just wanted a quiet moment where Amell explained some things to Zevran... and this happened. And for those who like to know: 'Eres una maravilla' translates from Spanish to 'You are a marvel'. Cariño means Hunny/Honey, Mi Amora means My Love &amp; Mi Querida means My Darling.**


	47. Land of the Dead

**Land of the Dead **(Amell PoV)

She swallowed thickly, bile threatening to rise in her throat. The smell of rot and decay was almost over powering, the heat was stifling, and the noise... The sound of a thousands of darkspawn clamouring and growling would forever be etched in her mind. Briefly, Garnet squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to regain some of her composure. However, it was to no avail. For when she opened her eyes, her hand still shook as she tightly held her bow, regarded the hoard. The only comforting thought, was that the darkspawn were several hundred feet below them, in a valley that had been natural carved into the rock over a millennia. The Dead Trenches had been aptly named.

Without warning, _something _sped past them. A mighty gale driven by enormous wings sent them staggering backwards. Human, elf and dwarf alike found themselves sprawling in a heap on the uneven cavern floor. Even Shale vacillated in the violent draft.

Managing to extricate herself from the tangle of limbs, Garnet clambered shakily to her feet, and stared in the direction of the _thing_. Her mouth went dry and her eyes widened. She would have screamed, if pure, primal fear hadn't stolen her voice. Her heart hammered frantically in her chest, her breathing coming in startled, gasping pants. Garnet's body trembled at the sight in front of her. It was her every nightmare, made flesh.

Archdemon.

The deafening roar that the beast unleashed, sent Garnet to her knees, her bow clattering out of reach. She clutched her head, her hands curling over her ears, in a feeble attempt to block out the sound. It felt like a thousand needles pierced her brain all at once, and she was in no doubt that Alistair was also feeling the same effects. His loud grunts of discomfort blended with her pitiful whimpers.

Gentle hands touched her, more than Garnet would have expected to. One firm hand stroked her back in light, tentative movements. Another two, ones that she recognised as Zevran's, managed to carefully loosen the vice-like grip she had on her hair. He slowly lowered her hands to her lap, and caressed them in languid strokes. Then, another pair of hands cupped each side of her face. Garnet allowed her head to be tilted upwards, and through a haze of unshed tears, she regarded Morrigan. The witch offered her a faint, tense smile as weak healing magic washed over her. The spell was a fraction of what Garnet could cast herself, but her friend was no healer. Still, the soothing tendrils were a welcome reprieve from the pain.

After several minutes, Garnet fully came to her sense again. Acutely aware that whilst Zevran, Morrigan and even Oghren, who was still nervously rubbing her back, were tending to her... that her fellow warden had been left to fend for himself. Or in the very least, had Shale watching over him, and Garnet doubted that the golem had much experience in the empathy department.

"Alistair?" she managed to rasp out, her throat still uncomfortably dry.

There was a grunt of acknowledgement from the direction she had last spied the ex-Templar, accompanied by what sounded like someone struggling to sit up. Though before Garnet could rise to investigate, Oghren shoved a water skin, unceremoniously into her hands. Whilst Zevran wrapped his strong arms protectively around her torso, gently bringing her to rest against his chest. Halting any shaky attempt she might have made to tend to her friend. Cautiously, Garnet sipped from the water skin. The liquid unpleasantly warm, but still granting a welcome reprieve from the scratchy dryness she felt in her throat.

"The Templar is fine," Morrigan stated, standing over her with arms crossed. "He is a complete baby, but he is fine." Despite the witch's clipped tone, Garnet could see the genuine concern in her yellow eyes.

"Thank you," she smiled hesitantly, still feeling worse for wear from the unexpected experience.

"Are you alright?" Zevran asked, his voice a mere murmur against Garnet's ear.

On instinct, her hands came to settle on top of his, where they now rested possessively against her abdomen. "I am now," she assured, her voice hushed as she gazed up at him. For once, Garnet did not care who noticed the evident affection in her eyes, not even Zevran himself.

* * *

**Author's Note  
Obviously, quite a short chapter about the beginning of the end of the 'A Paragon of Her Kind' quest. It always struck me as a little odd, that the warden(s) are not affected much by the Archdemon. So this was to rectify that.**


	48. A Walk Nightmares are Made Of

**A Walk Nightmares are Made Of **(Zevran PoV)

The stench of filth and decay had become so overwhelming, they had taken to wrapping strips of torn clothing around their mouths and noses, in an attempt to block out the odour. Despite the ever elevating temperature, and even Shale seemed to wear a look of perpetual disgust. Something Zevran hadn't been aware golems could do, until they had ventured deeper into the Dead Trenches. Sweat drenched his back, making his leather armour more uncomfortable than the stifling heat had managed. He longed to make camp, and to bathe in the water conjured from the mage's ice spells. It was far from ideal, but it always brought a welcome reprieve. Still, Zevran had to suppose he was not the worst off. Garnet and Morrigan may be fairing better in their lightweight robes, but at least he was not wearing heavy armour like Alistair or Oghren. To distract him from his discomfort, Zevran currently had a very tantalising view of the warden's swaying hips to ogle, as she led their small group through the tunnels. Oghren was at her side, the pair consulting maps as they went. Alistair and Shale were bringing up the rear, which left him to walk beside Morrigan.

"These Crows of yours, Zevran. Are they as extraordinary as you claim?" the witch asked, suddenly.

A slight smirk, hidden by his makeshift scarf, tugged at his lips. "They all but rule over my homeland. Do you find that extraordinary?"

Morrigan arched one of her perfectly groomed eyebrows. "If true. Are they so powerful simply because they are very good a what they do? Or is there some secret to their power?"

"If there were a secret, it would only remain so if it were not told, my dear," Zevran retorted.

"You are no longer bound to such a code," she observed. "Or do you believe their wrath will be greater than it already is, should you speak out of turn?"

For a moment, Zevran considered the witch's words. "It may be that I simply do not wish to tell you," he replied. Truthfully, the only person he felt comfortable with discussing anything regarding the Crows, was Garnet. Not that he would admit it. "You get the most delightful wrinkle in your brow when you are curious," he deflected.

Morrigan's brow furrowed, revealing the exact wrinkle Zevran had been aluding to. "I see," the witch said at length. "You are impossibly frustrating, you know this."

"I do. It is part of my charm, or so I'm told," he answered, glibly.

"Amell does have unconventional tastes, I will give her that," Morrigan stated, dryly.

The retort on the tip of Zevran's tongue died, as a strange muttering reached his ears. At first, he wondered if he was hearing things, until he caught the panicked look in Garnet's eyes when she turned to glance behind her. The muttering came again, slightly louder, but still indistinct. Without thinking, the six of them closed ranks. After stowing maps, and drawing weapons, they crept forward as one. With only half of the mage's conjured werelights to guide their cautious progress.

"First day they come, and catch everyone."

Zevran's ears twitched slightly at the whispering tone. It was becoming evident that the voice was female, but nothing else was obvious about the owner. Other than the need to be really creepy, to skulk around the Deep Roads, muttering oppresive ramblings.

"Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat."

It was hard not to notice the pointed look Garnet and Alistair exchanged, as the Templar replaced Oghren at the mage's side. Nor did Zevran miss the worried glance the dwarf gave him, as he past to take his place beside Shale.

"Third day, the men are all gnawed on again."

Garnet cast Mass Rejuvenation on the party, the spell casting a hazy white glow around the carved stone corridor. It was not unusual for the warden to do so just before battle. What surprised Zevran, however, was the subtle Lifeward spell he felt tingle his skin. He would have dismissed the feeling as nothing more than pre-fight stimulus, if he hadn't felt it before, back in the Brecilian ruins. And he felt himself oddly touched, that Garnet would think to cast that sort of spell on himself.

"Fourth day we wait, and fear for our fate."

There was a faint glow at the end of the nearly dark passageway, and Zevran watched with a hint of pride as Garnet switched out her bow for her double daggers. Despite the horror of their first training session, the warden had taken to duel wielding like a born rogue. And regardless of the unknown danger they were about to face, Zevran relished the chance to fight back to back with her.

"Fifth day they return, and it's another girl's turn."

Morrigan and Garnet exchanged worried glances, fear very evident in their eyes. The look was unnerving, for neither women ever seemed to be scared. Whatever the two mages were thinking, he was unsure. However, Zevran could fully agree... the mutterings sounded more and more ominous.

"Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams."

Without thinking, Zevran slipped past the warden, and gently guided her to fall in to step behind him. To his relief, Garnet didn't protest at his presumption. She merely squeezed his shoulder before falling into step beside Morrigan. Alistair looked at him out of the corner of his eye, then nodded. It seemed the Templar also believed the two women would be safest in the middle of their group.

"Seventh day she grew, as in her mouth they spew."

Zevran's stomach lurched at the image that created. The pained groan from Alistair and the heaving sound from Oghren, let him now he wasn't the only one struggling with the thought. Morrigan and Garnet remained conspicuously quiet though. Shale, however, gave a disgusted sounding grunt.

"Eighth day we hated, as she is violated."

"Dear Maker," Garnet whispered, causing Zevran to glance behind. The warden's eyes were blown wide, yet a fierce determination was replacing the shock, as flames suddenly began to dance along the length of her two daggers.

"Ninth day she grins, and devours her kin."

The dim glow had become brighter now, and by the way the light flickered, it was apparent it was cast by firelight from torches. Garnet and Morrigan extinguished their werelights as the party grew closer, and Zevran tightened his grip on his twin blades. Enjoying the welcome weight of them in his hands.

"Now she does feast, because she's become the beast."

As one, the sixth of them left the claustrophobic corridor and stepped into the brightly lit room. Weapons raised, and stances poised for a fight, they were a formidable. Zevran had thought he was ready for anything... however, he found himself completely unprepared for the sight that greeted them.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****It feels as if the Deep Roads are never ending! So who else was quite creeped out by this section of the game. Anyone else reminded of the Freddy Krueger song from Nightmare on Elms Street because of Hespith's poem? **


	49. The Awful Truth

**The Awful Truth **(Amell PoV)

Anger. Pure, unadulterated anger surged through her at the mere sight of Branka. Garnet was well and truly reaching the end of her tether with the repugnant dwarf. Whether she was Oghren's wife or not, Branka was a raving lunatic. The fate of Hespith, who had killed herself at the thought of facing the smith again and had died in Garnet's, along with the fate of the rest of House Branka... All sacrificed to the darkspawn by the supposed paragon. The fight against the broodmother had been disturbing enough, before Hespith had revealed the monster had once been her friend, Laryn. The poor dwarf's fate sealed, because of Branka. Now the self-righteous bitch deigned to reappear, only after they had completed the gruelling set of trails and reach the location of the Anvil of the Void. Garnet had already been leaning towards not letting Branka get her grubby hands on the legendary anvil, and that was before they had encountered Cariden.

"No! The Anvil is mine! No one will take it from me," Branka screeched, madness clear in her eyes.

A giant, metallic hand clapped over Garnet's shoulder, making her jump. "You! Please... help me destroy the Anvil! Do not let it enslave more souls than it already has!" the golem, that had once been the paragon Cariden, pleaded. "Shale, you once fought to destroy the Anvil. Do not allow it to fall into unthinking hands again."

If a golem could looked shocked, Garnet supposed Shale would at this moment. For somehow, that was the aura the stone monolith was giving off. The golem looked at her, then back at Cariden. Obviously, or at least as obvious as a golem can be with emotion, surprised that the once-paragon knew her. Not to mention what he was suggesting she had once done.

"You speak of things I do not remember," Shale stated, her gravelly voice seeming suspicious. "You say we fought. Did you use our control rod to command us to do so?"

And if a golem could be offended, Cariden appeared to be so. "I destroyed the control rods," he replied. His metallic voice sounding, somehow, affronted. "Perhaps my apprentices eventually learned to replace the rods... I do not know. But if so, then all they need is the Anvil to make all the slaves they need."

"Don't listen! He's been trapped here for a thousand years, stewing in his own madness," Branka shouted.

"She is one to talk, no?" Zevran muttered.

The irony was not lost of Garnet. However, she could only stare at the female paragon. _'She's a complete and utter lunatic!'_

"Help me claim the Anvil, and you will have an army like you've never seen!" Branka continued.

Without really thinking, Garnet slipped out from Cariden's loose hold, and strode purposefully towards Branka. It had already been difficult to control her anger, but as the female paragon began to smirk, obviously thinking she had won the argument, Garnet really struggled to keep her fire magic at bay. To compensate, she balled her hand into a fist, and punched Branka square in her bulbous nose. A mage punching a dwarf was mostly ineffective, and Branka did have a sword and shield strapped to her back, but the look on the bitch's face as she swayed backwards slightly was worth the danger. As far as Garnet was concerned.

She felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, and the scent of sandalwood accompanied it. "Eloquently put, cariño," Zevran teased in a whisper close to her ear, as Oghren stepped between them and his wife.

"Branka, you mad, bleeding nug-tail," the warrior growled. "Does this thing mean so much to you, that you can't even see what you've lost to get it?"

Garnet's heart went out to the gruff dwarf. She couldn't begin to image what Oghren was going through, but it was obvious he wasn't just talking about the horrors they had witnessed. Horrors Branka had committed in the name of the Anvil of the Void. It sounded like the grizzled warrior was finally giving up on his wife.

"Look around. Is this what our empire should look like?" Branka argued. "A crumbling tunnel filled with darkspawn spume? The Anvil will let us take back our glory."

"You are damned insane! What you did to your friends, your lover, proves that... But even your acts pale in comparison. The Anvil enslaves living souls!" Garnet rebuked, her hands shaking in the effort not to hurl a fireball at the bitch. "Nothing is worth that cost. It _must_ be destroyed."

She felt Zevran give a subtle squeeze of her hand, which had an oddly soothing effect. "If you wish, my dear Grey Warden, I would be happy to accept a contract on her," he whispered, causing Garnet's mouth to twitch in a hint of a smile.

"Have you no desire to discover this anvil's potential? It is a marvel, a tool of creation!" Morrigan asked, suddenly. Obviously playing demon's advocate. "You could rival the Maker himself with this instrument! If you destroy the anvil, I swear you will regret it."

"And how would you like to become a golem?" Garnet retorted, dryly. She knew what her friend was doing, but she doubted Branka would pay any heed. The mad smith was too far gone in her obsession to be reached.

"You would not dare!" Morrigan gasped, dramatically.

Garnet found herself biting the inside of her cheek to stop laughing at the witch. The display would be convincing, to someone who didn't know how cool and collected Morrigan was at all times, however Garnet did and found it ridiculous. Morrigan's theatrics could almost rival Zevran's, when she was of the mood. Beside her, Garnet was aware the assassin was trying not to snicker, and she noticed Alistair was also failing to hide a wry smile.

"Wouldn't I, if I cared only for power?" Garnet replied, risking a glance at Branka. "We _have_ to destroy the Anvil."

The smith remained unmoved, choosing to glare daggers at Cariden than listen to reason. Morrigan and Alistair gave their murmured agreements, and after only a moments hesitation, Oghren grunted his own consent. Shale was the last to acknowledge what Garnet had said. But as the stone golem lumbered over, coming to position herself directly between Branka and the group, she seemed to be pleased. As far as a golem could, that is.

"So the fiery mage fights with Cariden? Good, that seems right," Shale stated.

"Thank you, stranger. Your compassion shames me," Cariden admitted.

"As it does to all of us," Zevran retorted, though his usual playful nature was somewhat dampened down.

"No!" Branka screeched. "You shall not take it, not whilst I still live!"

The noise of agitation that Oghren made, would have put Cadoc's war growl to shame. "Branka, don't throw your life away for this!"

Garnet's heart broke a little for her abrasive companion. She empathised how hard the situation must be for him, especially after two years of trying to find his wife. To realise there was nothing left of the woman he loved... though still desperately trying to get Branka to see sense. For all his faults, the warrior was too good for the likes of the crazed smith.

"We have to destroy the Anvil, Branka," Garnet tried to reason, mainly for Oghren's sake. "Only suffering comes of it."

"Warden, just give her the blasted thing," Oghren grumbled, though the look he gave her was downright pleading. "She's confused... maybe once she's calmed down, we can talk to her!"

"She is not the Branka you know, my friend," Zevran argued.

"Oghren, you've seen what she's done. She's no longer the woman you fell in love with," Garnet said, hoping they wouldn't end up fighting against their newest companion. "She's obsessed. What she's done is beyond redemption."

Her voice caught as she said those words, knowing what she was asking. Bile threatened to rise in Garnet's throat, the words tasting like ash. She never thought she'd be asking a friend to turn on the one they loved. It was something Garnet couldn't imagine doing to Zevran, and she hadn't even confessed her true feelings to the enigmatic elf... and here she was asking Oghren to turn on his wife, for Maker's sake! However, her anguish must have shown, for the angry gaze the stout warrior was levelling her, suddenly softened. Though before Oghren could say anything in reply, Branka gave a hysterical bark of laughter.

"Bah! You are not the only master smith here, Cariden," she crowed. "Golems, obey me! Attack!"

With that Branka brandished an unusual, curved crystal cylinder, above her head. It was similar to the broken control rod the merchant had given Garnet, before they set off to find Shale. There was a crackle of energy, and several stone golems that had been standing sentry along the chamber wall, began to shudder to life. There was then a pained sounding gasp from the large metal construct that had once been Cariden, and Garnet had to admit, the noise_ did_ actually sounded pained. The thought was sobering. Glancing behind, she saw the once-paragon brought to his knees. Obviously, it was a caused by whatever Branka had done to activate the other golems. Shale gave an angry rumble in response, though thankfully seemed otherwise unaffected.

"A control rod! But..." Cariden started, seeming confused. "My friend! You must help me," he pleaded, his metallic eyes boring into Garnet. "I cannot stop her alone."

"What have I said about helping strangers?" Morrigan grit out, as she cast Mass Paralysis on their attackers.

"I know, I know!" Garnet called back, as she tried to cast a Crushing Prison on a lone golem that the witch's spell had missed.

Deftly, she dodged out of the way of a large, stone fist that had been intent on squashing her. Her offensive spell dying, as she tried to bring up a Shimmering Shield to protect herself. As the enemy golem raised it's arm to swing again, Alistair charged into it. The clang of steel on stone was deafening. The momentum knocked the golem off balance, and Shale managed to shatter it's head with a crushing blow. The tremor caused by the falling body, sent Garnet tumbling to her feet.

"We really must speak about your choice of dates, mi querida," Zevran teased, as he helped her stand.

"Alright, handsome. You can chose the next one," she quipped, forcing herself to match his levity. Garnet then drew her duel blades, and moved to stand back to back with her lover, as two golems advanced on them from opposite directions. "And as wonderful as the thought is, spending the entire time wrapped naked around each other is not a date!"

* * *

**Author's Note  
Branka made me so damn angry, I really wish there **_**had **_**been a 'punch' option when dealing with her! And I also felt really sorry for Oghren. Branka was a total bitch!**


	50. A Quiet Moment

**A Quiet Moment **(Zevran PoV)

He couldn't help the sigh that escaped him as he sank into the warm water for the fifth time. They had been back in Orzammar for less than twelve hours, having spent the better part of a month in the Deep Roads. In that time, Zevran had bathed four times already, relishing the ever constant supply of hot water, thanks to the dwarves' use of what they called thermal energy. Though it was only his fifth consecutive bath, that he finally felt clean enough to relax. He had no doubt that Garnet had felt the same, for he had last seen her one hour ago, soaking in the large square tub of her own room.

As Zevran sank lower into the water, another sigh escaped him. It had been a long and gruelling month. Trekking the long abandoned tunnels of the Deep Roads, fighting a never ending supply of darkspawn, deepstalkers and spiders. Dealing with Ruck, a Fade demon, Branka's madness, discovering the golem were was dwarves, destroying the anvil, and then the uproar that was caused by crowning Bhelen king. That was all before he took into account, Garnet's revelation of the nature of being a warden. Zevran shuddered a little at that thought, and of the promise he had made to her. Despite how they had first met, the thought of killing her, the woman Zevran could admit he adored... even if it was to save her, chilled him to the core.

Nimble, slender fingers suddenly began to card through his damp tresses, that hung free of their usual braids. Zevran let his head fall back, to be pleasantly surprised when it came to rest against the pliant flesh of her thigh. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was, there was only one person who would visit him now... not to mention he could smell the faint hint of rose petals that clung to her skin. And as pleasant as the fragrance was on Garnet's skin, Zevran found himself longing to bathe her in the scents of his own country. In ylang-ylang and orange blossom... she would smell divine.

"Dare I ask what that smirk if for?" the warden asked. Her voice soft and gentle, as it ghosted over the outer shell of his tapered ear.

"Unless you want to hear about the beautiful sex goddess I am intending to seduce, it is best not to ask," he teased, pulling himself to sit on the side of the stone tub.

Glancing to his side, Zevran drank in the sight of Garnet. Her fiery hair was curling slightly at the ends, as it liked to do when it was freshly washed. Her face was bare of make up, with only her jade tattoo standing in stark contrast to her porcelain skin. Her verdant eyes sparkled, almost impishly, which came as some relief to Zevran. For he had worried, down in the Deep Roads, where her usually kind eyes had turned hard and distant the longer they had remained in the depressing tunnels. His eyes travelled from her face, down the elegant column of her throat, and past the generous proportions of her delectable bosom. Garnet was clad in a short, camisole shift, that barely reached her middle thigh. It was of light, lavender silk with black lace trim around the bust and hem. It was a garment Zevran had never seen before, a type of garment he had never had the pleasure of seeing Garnet in before. And from the oddly shy and demure way the warden was perching on the side of the tub, two things he would never have attributed to his fiery mage, Zevran hazard a guess that Leliana had appropriated the shift whilst they had been in the Deep Roads. He would have to thank his fellow rogue later.

"Like what you see?" Garnet asked, as she handed him a towel.

Zevran could tell the warden was trying to keep things light and cheerful, probably as a direct result of everything they had gone through in the Deep Roads. However, there was a weariness that undercut her playful tone. Most would have missed it, Zevran supposed he would have too, if not for the amount of time he spent with Garnet. He knew her, could now read her as easily as she read one of the books she loved so much, and she was exhausted.

Having secured the offered towel snuggly around his waste, Zevran smirked at the warden. "Was there any doubt?" he asked, cheekily. Before he swept her into his arms.

The startled yelp of surprise Garnet made, was utterly adorable. Yet Zevran had a hard time keeping a scowl of his face, when he realised just how slender the warden now was. The fiery mage had always been curvy but petite. Now, even though she still had her curves, she was worryingly light. Their time in the bowels of the earth had not been kind to any of them, but it seemed to have had more of a toll on the warden than Zevran had originally realised. Which would not do, Garnet needed her strength, to be fighting fit. And it would be criminal, as far as he was concerned, if she lost her pleasing figure. Especially when he could do something about it. There and then, Zevran decided to seek out Leliana in the morning. For he was sure his fellow rogue could convince the two wardens to stop at Redcliffe, once they left the Frostback Mountains, without it seeming like anyone was worrying about Garnet's health.

Gently, he lowered her to the bed, deftly slipping her shift up and over her head as he did so. Whenever he pulled the stunt when she was wearing one of his shirts, it always earned him a delightful giggle, and tonight was no exception. However, as Garnet reached for the towel that now sat low on his hips, Zevran slipped just out of her reach. At the warden's perturbed expression, he couldn't help but out right laugh.

"You are so pretty when you pout, mi amora," Zevran teased, as he walked to the other side of the bed. "Besides, you will need your energy for what I have planned for you."

As he moved, Zevran hurriedly dried himself, before discarding the towel over the back of a nearby chair, and settling into bed beside Garnet. The room they were in was highly opulent, by traditional dwarven standards, since the party had been granted rooms within the palace. Though to Zevran, it was a bizarre blend of drab grey stone, and gaudy paintings. However, the bed was surprisingly large and soft, considering it was made for dwarves. And as Garnet snuggled her naked body close to him, curling her arm almost protective over his torso, Zevran felt more relaxed and content than he could ever remember being before.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
**I was so sick of the Deep Roads, I had to get them out of there! Just wanted something a little sweet and maybe a little fluffy, at a slower pace, to contrast the last few chapters.**


	51. The Calm Before the Storm

**The Calm Before the Storm **(Amell PoV)

When she had first agreed to help a sceptical Sten locate his missing sword, Garnet had no idea how equally complicated, yet surprisingly easy, it would turn out to be. It had taken them to several places, and several shady characters, with the last one being found by Bodahn whilst they had been in the Deep Roads. Sten had 'questioned' he unfortunate soul himself, according to Leliana, and had found who had bought his blade.

Dwyn had been strangely accommodating this time round, perhaps the warrior had warmed up to her after fighting side by side to defend Redcliffe. Though Garnet supposed it was more likely the dwarf had been rather cowed by the seven foot Qunari that had loomed over him. Not to mention the combined, wicked glares that both Zevran and Oghren had levelled at him. She had actually felt sorry for Dwyn, after all, he had done nothing wrong. Merely bought a sword from a less than reputable trader, so she had offered to buy the dwarf dinner, which seemed to ease the atmosphere in the small hut.

That had been over two hours ago. Bella had served them all excellent meals in the tavern, that had been newly christened 'The Warden's Rest', something Zevran had found immensely amusing. However, as Oghren, Dwyn, and even Bodahn had started up a round of drinking games, Garnet had quickly excused herself to go in search of Sten, who had seemed to have disappeared. She had eventually found him down by the lake, staring contemplatively across the water that lapped gently at the pebbled foreshore.

"Strange... I had almost forgotten it... completion," Sten said at length, as he looked at the sword in awe. "Are you sure you're a Grey Warden?" he asked. His gaze turning to her, slightly less severe than unusual. "I think you must be an ashkaari, to find a single lost blade in a country at war."

Garnet smiled at the behemoth, as they began to walk along the shore. She had no idea what he just called her, but sentiment was rather evident, even from someone as stoic as the Qunari. "You're welcome, Sten."

"I would thank you for this, if I knew how," Sten paused for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts, as he attached the great sword to his back. "I could deliver a much more satisfying answer to the Arishok's question, if the Blight was ended, don't you agree?"

There was the slightest hint of a smile on her companion's face, drawing Garnet's wider in response. "Absolutely," she agreed. Even after all these months of travelling together, she still didn't understand the Qunari, but it was plain to see that was his way of saying 'thank you'.

"I must admit, I had been mistaken," Sten stated, in his usual cryptic manner.

"What do you mean?" Garnet asked, moving to settle against one of the pier's posts once they reached it.

"You are a soldier, worthy to stand among the beresaad. I did not think so, when we first met," he admitted.

Garnet's smile threatened to turn into a smirk. She could well remember those first few weeks, and Sten struggling to reconcile that she was a woman who thought. "Thank you," she replied, deciding not to over think the compliment.

"You are welcome, Kadan," Sten said, his gaze somewhat warmer, before he seemed to remember himself. "The day will come when the Arishok sends us here. On that day, I will not look for you on the battlefield."

The Qunari's words left Garnet blinking up at him in surprise. Once again, she didn't understand the unfamiliar word, but it seemed like a term of endearment. Though the shock of that, was overwritten by the queasy feeling settling in her gut. The thought of a Qunari invasion... the possibility of fighting against someone she had come to consider a friend... it left her mouth dry, and heart racing. Trying to school her face, lest it belie her turmoil, Garnet turned her gaze out across Lake Calenhad, studying the way the moonlight reflected on the barely rippling water.

"You think the Qunari with invade Fereldan?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice even.

"In time," Sten explained, his voice having the unexpected air of regret to it. "There is no point dwelling on this. We should move on."

Garnet threw her friend as bright a smile as she could manage, if it was a little watery, the Qunari was kind enough not to mention it. "Agreed," she said, nodding.

Obviously, Sten felt the conversation was over, for with a slight incline of his head, he strode away. Leaving Garnet to resume quiet inspection of the dark water of the lake. Slowly, she sank to the wooden floor, and propped her shoulder against the post she had previously been leaning on. Since leaving the tower, the sight of freely moving water had come to give Garnet a sense of comfort, and she hoped this evening would be no exception. They would be on their way to Denerim tomorrow, along with Arl Eamon and his retinue. Even though it signalled that the journey was nearly at and end, the knowledge left Garnet feeling bereft.

"Should I be concerned that you are seeking out my replacement, cariño?" Zevran called out, his tone teasing, as he approached. "First taking Dwyn to dinner, then a moonlit walk with Sten. You will scandalise our dear Wynne."

Unable to help herself, Garnet let out an undignified snort. "Like you could be replaced," she said, smiling affectionately at the elf when he settled down beside her. "And let Wynne be scandalised," she added as an after thought. Garnet had still not fully forgiven the elder mage for her comments in the Brecilian Forest.

Suddenly, Cadoc's unmistakable weight and warmth was at her back, and the mabari huffed what sounded like an agreement. Garnet and Zevran exchanged a look, before both burst out laughing. With ease born of months of intimacy and companionship, the elf slipped his arm around her waist, and pulled her close to him. Garnet went willingly, resting her head on his shoulder, whilst their right hands entwined and rested upon his thigh. Cadoc, for his part, simply flopped down beside them. His great head coming to rest across Garnet's crossed ankles.

A sigh, crossed between sad and contented, escaped her lips. And she blinked back unexpected tears as Zevran held her closer. Garnet was scared, and he knew, and he was there. No further words were spoken, there didn't need to be. Though as Zevran's hand gripped hers a little tighter, Garnet realised she wasn't the only one needing comfort. There was no way to tell what the future held, even for a mage. But right then, sat beside the lapping waters of Lake Calenhad, in the arms of the man she was sure she was falling in love with, Garnet was okay with that. Right then, what they had, it was enough.

**Author's Note**

**So I wanted a more cohesive timeline, of them collecting on the treaties and then heading to Denerim, which culminated in this chapter. This story is now over six months old, &amp; I really wanted to take the time to say thank you for everyone who is enjoying reading this fic. Your support means a lot, &amp; I hope you are still enjoying the ride! Diolch. Thank you.**


	52. Past and Present

**Past and Present** (Zevran PoV)  


As they walked through the suspiciously deserted backstreet, Zevran stuck to Garnet's side like a shadow. He'd been on high alert since leaving Arl Eamon's estate, his keen eyes constantly scanning the busy crowds of Denerim. The hubbub caused by the pending Landsmeet had been so hectic, that he, Garnet and Leliana had elected to take one of the side routes across the city, as they had done on previous visits. Oghren, who was still a little overwhelmed by the vast sky above him, merely grunted his assent. Which was how they found themselves, walking through the seemingly abandoned street. The quietness didn't bode well. Usually they would have encountered a street urchin, washer woman, or rag and bone man by now. But there wasn't another soul to be seen... not even a scrounging mungrel.

Zevran felt the telltale tingle of Garnet's magic, as she subtle cast Shimmering Shield on the party. A moment later, it was followed by the warm, magical caress, that meant the warden had added Life Ward to his protection. The realisation pulled a small smile onto his lips, despite his current wariness for their situation. Zevran was not exactly sure why Garnet took extra pains with the spells she cast on him, and he'd never sought out the opportunity to enquire. Part of that was cowardice, since he had long decided that, no matter how mutually enjoyable their dalliance was, Garnet was probably warding him for purely practical reasons. However, considering how up close and personal he got with their foes during a fight, Zevran was extremely thankful for the warden's forethought. Even though a small part of him, that Zevran regularly chose to ignore, was disappointed it wasn't because she cared.

"Trap. Up ahead," Leliana advised, her voice a low whisper.

The warning pulled Zevran from his thoughts, and as he looked in the direction his fellow rogue was indicating, his blood ran cold. He knew that trap. The style, location, even the way it was concealed, was all too familiar. His heart began to hammer in his chest, as adrenalin surged through his body. He knew the trap... and the person who laid it.

"And so here is the mighty Grey Warden, at long last," an unwelcomely familiar voice drawled, from the staircase above them. "The Crows send their greetings, once again."

"So they sent you, Taliesen?" Zevran addressed his one time lover, his voice sombre. "Or did you volunteer for the job?"

"I volunteered of course," Taliesen smirked. "When I heard that the _great_ Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see it for myself."

Inwardly, Zevran winced at his old friend's words. "Is that so? Well here I am, in the flesh," he replied, nonchalantly.

"You can return with me, Zevran," Taliesen cajoled. "I know why you did this, and I don't blame you. It's not too late. Come back and we'll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake."

Listening to his one time friend, Zevran felt physically sick. A story... the thought echoed around his head. The last time his fellow Crow had suggested making up a story, was after he had cursed Rinna, and left her bleeding out her life blood. The thought that Taliesen meant to do the same to his beloved mage, had bile rising in Zevran's thought. He'd die before he let anyone lay a finger on her.

"Of course, I'd need to be dead first," Garnet interjected.

The neutrality in her voice was so disconcerting, Zevran found his head snapping in the warden's direction. What he saw, honestly scared him. Garnet's entire countenance was simply blank. Her stance neutral, her face an empty mask. For a woman who was normally so full of life, so open, so expressive... looking at her now, cut Zevran to the core. In that moment, fear like he'd never felt before, gripped him. He truly worried that Garnet thought he was listening to his fellow crow. Zevran knew they had a less than auspicious start, but they had completely moved passed that. Or so Zevran had thought, hoped. The notion that the warden suspected he might betray her, tore at him. It was an actual, physical weight in his chest. And it was then that Zevran realised how he really felt for Garnet... The only glimmer of hope he had, was that the warden had not once glanced in his direction. Her emerald eyes had remained firmly locked on Taliesen.

"That's true," Zevran agreed, at length. "You would need to be dead."

Behind them, he heard Leliana unsling her bow, and Oghren grunt as he hefted his great battleaxe.. Zevran couldn't blame them. After all, he had try to kill Garnet, when he first met her. They had been more accepting that Alistair or Wynne, but still Zevran knew that only the warden believed his oath to her, and even that seemed in doubt at that moment.

"Ha! Now there's the Zevran I remember!" Taliesen proclaimed.

Zevran winced at that. He, himself, knew he was far from the man he had been as a Crow. But hearing those words... out of the corner of his eye, Zevran noticed Garnet slowly begin to unsheathe one of her daggers. Her gaze was still resolutely trained on Taliesen though. Zevran took a heartbeat to take in the sight of her. Alabaster skin set like a marble mask, hair like dancing flames as the breeze whipped through it. Her lithe but curvy figure was encased in sleek black, leather armour, instead of her customary Archon robes... thanks to Master Wade. She was a deadly, alluring vision. It took Zevran another moment to realise that the dagger she had unsheathed, was Rinna's.

"I am no fool... old friend," he stated, turning his attention back to Taliesen.

Slowly, as to not startle their other companions into the wrong action, Zevran closed the distance between himself and Garnet. Though her eyes never left the other Crow, the warden turned her back to him, taking up the stance they had been practising since the day she asked for training. The relief that washed over Zevran was palpable. Fighting back to back was how he and Garnet had trained to fight at close quarters together. And there was no doubt in Zevran's mind, that Taliesen had other Crows hiding in wait, simply waiting for a signal to strike. The fact that Garnet trusted him enough, had enough faith in him, to not even question his loyalty...

"I am not about to return to the loving arms of the Crows, believe me," Zevran continued, more for benefit of Leliana and Oghren.

His heart stuttered slightly, as he felt Garnet's fingers ghost across his, before she drew Duncan's dagger. And it never ceased to amaze Zevran, how quickly the warden's breathing took up the rhythm of his breaths. It was as if the fiery mage was completely in tune with him, and Zevran doubted it was something he'd ever get use to. The slightly cool prickle of a Regenaration spell began to creep through his system, as Garnet finished her battle preparations.

"You are going to lose, Taliesen," Zevran stated, confidently. "You're going to lose badly. You should have stayed in Antiva."

The look of shock on the face of his one time lover, was priceless. "What?! You've gone soft in the head! The Crows with make you pray for death, you fool!"

Zevran bit back the urge to laugh. The Crows had already made him wish for death, countless times. The last had led him to Garnet. At that moment, the warden slightly shifted her weight, causing her back to press into his. It wasn't enough to set him off balance, merely enough pressure to let him know she was there. It was a silent gesture, that said she had his back. One that Zevran would never be able to express his gratitude for.

"Perhaps they will," he replied to his fellow Crow. "But I'll take what time I have. You have a choice, Taliesen..." Zevran paused, glancing about the deserted street. "All of you do," he added for good measure.

"You would turn your back on us for that... whore!" Taliesen shouted. "You think she actually cares about you? You're a whoreson, Zevran. She'll discard you, once she gets bored."

Bile rose in Zevran's throat, at his old friends words. Taliesen had always known how to play on Zevran's perceived inadequateness, and this was no different. The words stung, for they were the same ones that filled his head late at night, even whilst Garnet slept in his arms. Still, be that as it may be, Zevran still knew he would not turn on the warden. Despite being certain of their future, or lack there of, Zevran knew he would be loyal to her until his dying breathe. He was about to open his mouth to retort, when Garnet stole the opportunity from him.

Without warning, the warrior mage unleashed a powerful Inferno, directly above Taliesen. The rogue had to hastily jump and scramble out of the way, to avoid being hit by any of the fiery magic. Zevran spared a glance at the woman by his side, and was surprised to see her eyes burning as fiercely as her magic. Garnet, normally calm and collected, was positively livid. And as the madness rained down around them, he fully understood why most of Thedas feared mages.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**I really wanted to tell some of this from Zevran's PoV. With everything that has happened to him, I figure he would be feeling pretty messed up during this altercation. I also feel that it would take something major, for Zev to confront how he feels for the warden, and I reckon her showing unquestionable faith in him would do the trick.**


	53. Righting Old Wrongs

**Righting Old Wrongs **(Amell PoV) 

As she pulled Duncan's dagger from her lifeless foe, Garnet glanced at her companions. Oghren bellowed triumphantly beside her, as his mighty axe cleaved a Crow assassin in two. Leliana had found a perch on the balcony of one of the houses, and her expertly sighted shot took down the last enemy bowman. However, as Garnet's eyes fell to Zevran, her blood ran cold.

He was lying on the ground, clutching his abdomen, glaring defiantly at Taliesen, who was baring down on him. After another quick check on Oghren, to make sure the stout warrior wouldn't be overwhelmed by the remaining Crows, Garnet set off at a frantic run. Pure instincts had her sink Duncan's knife into a hapless assassin, foolhardy enough to try and stop her. Adrenaline burned in her veins, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest, as she ran on, leaving her beloved blade behind. There was only one driving thought in Garnet's mind. She had to save Zevran.

It seemed to happen almost in slow motion, as Taliesen moved to crouch over the injured elf, his dagger poised to strike. Without thinking, Garnet buried her remaining blade between the assassin's shoulder blades. Driving it to the hilt. Taliesen's knife clattered to the floor, as he crumpled to the side. Wet, gurgling breaths escaped him, indicating Garnet's dagger had found his lungs. And though it was her that he landed the killing blow, Taliesen's fading eyes were staring accusingly at Zevran.

Later, it would haunt Garnet, that she took enjoyment from what happened next. With her hand still firmly gripping the hilt of her blade, the dagger that Zevran had given her... the one Garnet suspected had once been Rinna's, she leant over Taliesen. Bending to bring her lips close to the bastard's ear, a wicked smile formed on Garnet's lips.

"Zevran is worth more than you could ever imagine," she snarled. "And I will defend him until my dying breath."

With that, she twisted the dagger, ending Taliesen's life. Even as the assassin gurgled out his last breath, Garnet stepped over him, and knelt beside Zevran. The elf was looking worringly pallid, but still he managed half a smile. Gently, Garnet moved his hands away from the heavily bleeding wound in his stomach. Summoning the last dregs of her mana, she began to knit the angry slash together. Garnet knew she didn't have enough energy to heal Zevran completely, but she could certainly stop him bleeding to death. Once they got him back to Eamon's estate, she'd be able to take proper care of him.

For quite some time, Garnet had realised how she felt about the enigmatic elf. But as she looked down at Zevran, blinking back tears, she vowed to tell him. Once he was recovered, she _would_ tell him. For there was no doubt in Garnet's mind... she loved him.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**So, a little bit of a shorter update. I just wanted to get across some of Amell's thoughts and feelings. That will help set up some future scenes. Also, j****ust a little FYI, I am giving myself a two week break. I have a lot of family &amp; work commitments coming up, &amp; I doubt I will have time to devote to writing!**


	54. Haze

**Haze **(Zevran PoV)

With a sigh, Zevran settled back into the mountain of fluffy pillows Garnet had arranged for him. The room he found himself in was finely appointed, with brightly woven tapestries hanging on the solid, grey stone walls. Fine fur rugs carpeted the flagstone floor, and the carved, four poster bed was large and soft, with rich orange drapes and a warm, golden eiderdown.

It was not the first room he had laid in, since returning from the fight with the Crows. Lady Isolde had only seen fit to direct a scullery maid make up a bed in the servants wing. Garnet had been furious, as had Leliana and Oghren, from what Zevran could hazily remember. Despite the warden's magic, the pain had been too great for him to concentrate on anything past his breathing. However, as Garnet deftly tended his wound, whilst patiently instructing Leliana on how to make a poultice, Oghren had seemingly stormed off in search of Arl Eamon and Bann Teagan. The latter had quickly returned with Alistair, profusely apologising about Isolde's behaviour. The two warriors had then helped relocate him to the grand accommodation he was now in.

Zevran had taken all of this in his stride. Quietly using Garnet's calming presence to ground himself, and the expressions that flitted across her beautiful face, as a way to measure how well he was healing. However, what did surprise him, was that Morrigan arrived not long after Teagan and Alistair. The witch quickly relieved Leliana of her apprenticeship, and set about making more potent poultices and tonics, whilst Garnet continued to pour her mana into healing spells. The warden had only stopped to allow Zevran to be moved, when Morrigan forced a lyrium draft into her hands.

When they had reached the chamber... their progress slow due to Zevran's refusal to be carried, and the halting steps he took, despite supported on either side by Alistair and Teagan... a great, copper tub of hot water had been waiting for him. Garnet had shooed the other men out of the room, before stripping to her under-slip. Only Morrigan stayed, and the two women divested Zevran of his remaining clothing, which was only his gloves, breeches and boots, before carefully helping him into the tub. Whilst Garnet had helped him bathe, Morrigan prepared more drafts. In truth Zevran hadn't expected the witch to be so helpful, though he didn't think for a second it was out of concern for him. Morrigan was a hard woman to read, often prickly and aloof, but Garnet seemed to have her full respect.

However, Zevran had noticed Morrigan was relatively friendly with Sten and Leliana too. And he was vaguely aware that there had been some task, that the three of them along with Cadoc, had performed for the witch... back before Zevran had first encountered the group. Alistair wasn't exactly sure of the details, as he and Wynne had not been included with the plan. Zevran had attempted to ask Garnet about it once, though the warden had simply shook her head. Politely refusing to speak about matters that 'were not hers to tell'. Her response had left him itching to know more, but Zevran had respected Garnet more for the refusal. And he was certain, that whatever had happened, made Morrigan feel she was indebted to the warden. Zevran doubted the witch would have helped with his care otherwise.

After Garnet had decided he was sufficiently clean, the two women had helped him out of the tub, and to the bed. Morrigan had unceremoniously handed him a towel, and as Zevran dried himself, the witch had taken her leave, the warden politely seeing her to the door. Out of the corner of his eye, Zevran had watch Morrigan give Garnet's hand a friendly squeeze, before exiting the room. The warden shut and bolted the heavy oak door behind her. Throughout all of this, Zevran had felt too numb and drained by the events to make any of his usual quips. In all honestly, all he wanted to do, was pull Garnet in his arms, and fall asleep.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**So, after my two crazy weeks (made even crazier by finding out I'm pregnant!) I finally have a new chapter up! Obviously, this follows on from the previous chapter &amp; I wanted to show what could be happening, after battles, that we don't see in game. I also just wanted to dedicate this chapter to Nemishysteria, sorry for making you wait so long!**


	55. A Moment's Pause

**A Moment's Pause **(Amell PoV)

Despite how drained she felt, a smile quirked Garnet's lips as she regarded the resting figure in the ornate bed. He was safe. A sigh escape her, as she let that fact sink in. Zevran's wound was healed, and after sufficient rest, he would be no worse for wear. At least physically. Garnet was still unsure how Zevran felt about her killing Taliesen, with Rinna's dagger no less. But she was sure the other Crow would have killed her assassin, and there was nothing in all of Thedas which would stop her protecting him.

Cautiously, Garnet approached the bed, only to be stopped in her tracks by what she saw. Valiantly, she managed to stifle a giggle, upon realising that Zevran was fast asleep. She had only left his side to see Morrigan to the door, and to ask her fellow mage to place an order with the merchant Cesar for her. That had barely taken a matter of minutes, but the assassin was already lost to the Fade. Smiling, Garnet gave his forehead an affectionate kiss, before deciding to tend to her own needs.

It wasn't lost on Garnet, that her armour was still blood stained, even as it littered the floor. Shuddering slightly, she gathered the discarded pieces and knelt by the roaring fire. Diligently, she set about cleaning the dyed, black leather, mentally reciting Zevran's instructions as she worked. It was Garnet's least favourite part about learning how to duel wield, and she much preferred her beloved bow and casting spells at a distance. Still, she had to admit there was something invigorating about fighting in the thick of things, back to back with her beloved assassin. However, nothing made the gruesome task of cleaning her armour any more bareable. And she had long since taken to reciting spells and instructions in her mind, to take her thoughts as far away from the bloody aftermath as she could manage.

Eventually, Garnet was convinced that her armour was cleaned to a standard that Zevran would approve of. Quietly, she folded the leggings, kilt, and tunic into a nearby storage chest, before moving towards the jug and basin at the far side of the room. A murmur from the bed caught her attention, though a glance in Zevran's direction revealed the elf was still fast asleep. Quickly, Garnet stripped from her under-things, and hastily washed in the tepid water. She would have much preferred a bath, but the water in the tub was too filled with blood from bathing Zevran. Nothing in all of Thedas would have convinced her to use that water.

Another murmur from the bed, led Garnet to believe her assassin was awaking from his impromptu slumber. So after hurriedly towelling off, she grabbed a clean under-slip from the armoire. Dressing as she walked, Garnet made her way to the bed, and gently sat beside her love.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**So a really short chapter, because I really want the next big conversation between the pair to be from Zevran's PoV. I also wanted to show another peek to the parts we don't see in game. Garnet's armour is inspired by the Blackblade armour (that my mage warden somehow ended up with after Awakening!).Also, on a personal note, myself &amp; my husband would like to thank everyone who sent such lovely words of congratulations to us. When I started writing, I never expected to attract a following of readers, let alone ones as lovely as I have. Thank you to everyone who has been following &amp; enjoying this story. I promise to try my best to have this story ready before baby arrives. Six months! Wish me luck lol**


	56. Someone to Rely On

**Someone to Rely On **(Zevran PoV)

The gentle sinking of the bed on his left hand side, roused Zevran from his impromptu sleep. He hadn't realised he had dozed off, until his eyes blearily re-opened. Turning his head slightly, Zevran found Garnet regarding him, affection evident in her gaze. He swallowed thickly, past the lump in his throat, that was born of emotion. If it wasn't for the remarkable women beside him, Zevran knew he would not be alive. There were so many things he was feeling, so many things he wanted to say. Most scared him immensely, and even though it probably made him a coward, Zevran didn't feel able to give voice to them.

"There it is... Taliesen is dead, and I am free of the Crows," he said, solemnly instead. "They will assume that I am dead, along with Taliesen. So long as I do not make my presence known to them, they will not seek me out."

"That's a good thing, right?" Garnet smiled, shifting her position so she was curled up into his side, but facing him.

"A very good thing," Zevran assured. "It is, if fact, what I had hoped for ever since you decided not to kill me."

He paused, allowing himself a moment to simply take in the woman in front of him. Gently, he tucked an errant lock of Garnet's flaming hair behind her ear. His action was rewarded by a sweet smile, one that caused a warmth to bloom in his chest, and set his heart beating a little faster. It was a feeling that happened more and more frequently in the warden's prescence. Something that truly terrified Zevran, for he had an incling of what it meant. However, a life time of fending for himself, had left him more than a little wary.

"I suppose it would be possible for me to leave now, if I wished," he said, cautiously. "I could go far away. Somewhere the Crows would never find me."

For the briefest of moments, Garnet's face fell. A mere heartbeat when she looked as if she could break, before her expression became completely neutral. It was the same mask the warden had taken to adopting, whenever she spoke with Wynne or Isolde. And realising that, made Zevran cringe. It twisted his insides in a way her couldn't explain.

"You... could," she agreed, at length.

Even though Garnet's tone remained even, her eyes no longer met his. And as much as it pained Zevran to watch the warden close herself off from him, it gave him some small, strange hope. Hope that he wasn't so foolish for the worrying feelings he felt for her. Hope that, perhaps, she may feel something for him too.

"I think, however, that I could also stay here," Zevran countered, trying to make it sound like he was mulling over his options. "I made an oath to help you, after all. And saving the world seems like a worthy task to see through to the end, yes?"

Garnet's verdant eyes darted up to meet his for the briefest of moments, before her gaze fell again, trained resolutely on the golden eiderdown of the bed. Zevran watched her take a deep inhalation, open her mouth to speak, only to shut it again. Garnet shook her head, sighing.

"I told you, I hold you to no oath Zev," she stated quietly. "If you wish to go, you should go."

His heart began to thump louder in his chest. Garnet's neutral mask was cracking, even as she avoided his gaze. Zevran realised then, that he had hurt her. He hadn't meant to, not truly, he merely wanted to protect himself. But realising he had hurt her, hurt him. Gritting his teeth, Zevran moved to a more upright position, wincing as he did. A hiss of pain escaped his clenched jaw, as the newly mended skin pulled over his abdomen. Without hesitation, Garnet was there. The soothing touch of her magic caressing him, as her arms slid around him. Carefully, with the warden's aid, Zevran settled back against the stack of pillows. As quickly as she had come to his aid, Garnet began to move away from him. Hoping to stop her retreat, Zevran cupped her face in both his hands.

"But that is what I am asking you," he said, his voice a little shaky. Much to his chagrin. "Do you want me to go? Or do you need me here?"

To Zevran's immense surprise... and horror, a tear escaped Garnet's eye. It was swiftly followed by another one. She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing, as if in concentration. When she opened them again, her emerald gaze was shimmering with unshed tears. The warden's hands moved to clasp his wrists, and Zevran fully expected Garnet to pull his hands away from her. However, she simply held them.

"I want you to do what is best for you," Garnet told him, her voice barely above a whisper.

Floored. Stunned. Shocked. They were just a few words that described how Zevran felt at that moment. Never in his life could he remember someone asking him for _his_ opinion. He didn't know what to think. Say. Do. What was even more confusing to him, was that it seemed that Garnet would stand by whatever he decided, even if it pained her to do so. Zevran didn't understand. He couldn't fathom why she would put his desires over her own.

"I... am not sure how to respond to that," he replied, truthfully. "Nobody has ever..." Pausing, Zevran wiped Garnet's tears from her cheeks. "I mean, normally, these things are decided by others."

"You're free of the Crows, Zev," Garnet said, finally removing his hands from her face. Though instead of moving away, she held his hands in hers. "You're free to decide what _you _want."

The pounding of his heart in his chest intensified, to the point Zevran was certain Garnet could surely hear it. He knew, all too well, what he wanted. But... did she feel the same? Was it worth the risk? It would be more sensible to leave now, before he made a fool of himself. Before Garnet rejected him, hurt him, realised he wasn't worthy of her. However, the thought of leaving her side was crushing. It left him feeling breathless.

"Er... then I suppose that I shall... stay?" Zevran decided, a little nervously. "Is that... good?"

For the first time since they started talking, Garnet smiled. Sadness still lingered in her eyes, but her smile was warm. Open and honest, as it always was, when it was turned towards him. Despite his nerves and doubts, Zevran was glad he had made the warden smile. That somehow, even in a small way, he could make her happy. As improbably as it seemed.

"It would be hard to kiss you, if you weren't around," Garnet retorted, leaning up to kiss Zevran's forehead.

He laughed outright, only slightly regretting doing so, when the wound on his abdomen made itself known again. "You know... that is so very true, cariño."

Zevran watched, as Garnet slightly titled her head to the side, as she often did when she was trying to work something out. Her perfect white teeth, snagged her bottom lip, and gently nibbled it. It was obvious there was something on the warden's mind, or something that she wanted to say. And time had taught Zevran, that if he wanted to know, he was best waiting her out.

"You know, for what it's worth... I do want you to stay," Garnet said, sounding a little hesitant.

It was almost as if she was nervous of his reaction, which seemed preposterous. For the fiery mage never shied away from voicing her opinion. She was never rude or crass, but the warden was certainly no wilting flower. It was rather... novel to see her unsure.

"And stay I shall. I'm with you until the end, mi amora," Zevran assured her.

There was a moment of silence between them, before Garnet slightly raised an eyebrow. It was then that Zevran realised what he had said, and how truthfully he had meant it. Panic gripped him them, wondering if he had revealed to much. If the warden would think it too forward, or too presumptuous.

"Provided you do not tire of me," he continued, his words tumbling out nervously. "Or I die. Or you die. But there you go..."

Somehow, Zevran thankfully stopped himself from speaking further. He felt like a fool, and Garnet surely thought him as such. However, the warden merely smiled sweetly at him, before gently cupping his tattooed cheek. She placed the softest kiss Zevran could imagine, on his lips, then rested her forehead against his.

"I can't predict our deaths... but I can promise you, I will never tire of you." Garnet kissed him again lightly, before sitting back. "Are you okay?" she asked, suddenly serious. "And I don't mean your wound."

Another caress of her healing magic, rippled warmly through Zevran's body. It was almost as if his mage was trying to prove a point. As he thought about her question, a sigh escaped him, which prompted Garnet to curl up by his side. Shutting his eyes, Zevran held the warden as close to his body as the eiderdown would allow.

"Believe it or not, despite my feelings for the Crows in general, I had no argument with Taliesen in specific," he explained. "He was a good friend, whose only real fault lay in his priorities. I had no wish to fight him, and truly I would have preferred had he not come after us at all. But what is done, is done."

"He was you lover?" Garnet asked quietly, her arm snaking carefully around Zevran's torso.

"He was," Zevran admitted, fighting back another sigh. "But there is no need to relive the past. That is all behind me now."

Zevran felt the warden nod, her red locks tickling his shoulder as she did. "If you want or need to talk about it... I'm always here for you, Zev."

Absent-mindedly, he kissed the top of her head. Something, some gut instinct, was telling him that Garnet meant it. That she truly intended to stay by his side, to be there for him. That she was someone he could lean on, rely on. Zevran's throat became dry as he considered this. His heart beat just a little faster, making him feel light headed. Unable to help himself, Zevran pulled Garnet impossibly closer, until she was nearly lying on top of him. His arms held her tightly to him. He had no real idea what he felt for the warden, only that he did. Right then, it was enough.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
**Who ordered the fluff with a side order of angst? I know there are quiet a few people eagerly waiting for the earring scene, particularly StarrySkyOnDragon'sBack, &amp; I promise it will be coming soon. I just wanted to get this scene out because it's been buzzing around my head for a while &amp; I thought it was a really important scene for the two of them.  
**


	57. A Rainy Morning

**A Rainy Morning **(Amell PoV)

As a wet and dreary dawn broke over the grey stone buildings of Denerim, Garnet slipped out of Eamon's estate with Leliana and Cadoc by her side. She had dressed in her beloved Archon Robes, and had left Zevran sleeping peacefully. In truth, Garnet would have chosen to have Morrigan with her as well. Though the witch had cracked one baleful yellow eye at her, muttered something about early mornings and frogs, before rolling over and going back to sleep. Which left Garnet and her fellow red head being escorted by her faithful mabari.

Stepping out into the courtyard, had both women pulling the hoods of their cloaks up. It wasn't the type of rain that was a deluge, but the fine, ceaseless type that soaked you through before you realised it. Setting off at a brisk pace, they quickly made their way to Wade's Emporium. The blacksmith's assistant, Herren, was already setting up shop and wasted no time in selling her a newly finished Felon's Coat. Which was aptly named, as far as she was concerned, given who the intended recipient was. And Leliana fully endorsed the armour as suitable chest piece for her fellow rogue. Thankfully, the Dalish gloves that Garnet had given Zevran had miraculously survived the skirmish with the Crows unscathed, which meant that she only had to pick up leggings and forearm guards from Gorim.

After dealing with the dwarven merchant, she stopped by Liselle, and indulged in purchasing some of the woman's fragrance oils, much to Leliana's delight and amusement. As breakfast time was fast approaching, Garnet sent her fellow redhead back to the estate, promising she only had one more stop to make. Which was true, and quickly she ducked under the heavy carpets that heralded the stall in question, with Cadoc trotting proudly by her side.

Upon seeing her, Master Ignacio paled slightly, though gave her a respectful bow. He seemed about to speak, perhaps to try and plead he had nothing to do with the Crow's attack yesterday, however the real reason for Garnet's visit quickly interrupted him.

"Bella," the Antivan merchant called out jovially. "I did not expect you so early, though I am pleased to see a fine lady such as yourself recognises quality."

"Cesar," Garnet smiled. "I have it on very good authority they are the best, and I knew you were the man for the job."

"But of course," Cesar chuckled. "And your friend yesterday was as pleasing to the eye as you are, which makes the transaction so much more agreeable."

"Antivans!" she grinned, rolling her eyes for effect.

As the merchant produced her order, the smell alone told Garnet they were indeed the genuine article. In truth, the smell of the finely tanned leather was not as pungent as she had expected, but it was certainly stronger than any Ferelden made ware she had encountered. For good measure, Garnet also purchased two dozen fire arrows for her bow, along with some concentrating agent and corrupter agent, that she had noticed Zevran had been running low on.

To Garnet's surprise, as she was about to leave the stall, Ignacio tactfully caught her eye. She had been wary of the Crow master, ever since his degradation of Zevran. However, after completing a number of tasks for him, they hadn't encountered any other Crows. Until Taliesen, that is.

"I hear there was quite the skirmish in the backstreets yesterday," he stated conversationally.

"Indeed?" Garnet replied. She tried to keep her tone light, but if Cadoc's growl was any indication, she had missed the mark somewhat.

"Truly," Ignacio continued. "An ambush that failed, I am told. Though I have it on good authority that _all_ bodies have been dealt with."

Garnet blinked in surprise. If she was hearing him correctly, which she was sure she was, the Crow master was saying that he'd reported Zevran as dead. Ignacio had said that he'd 'perhaps turn the other way, if a Crow cell wanted help against them', but Garnet had never dreamed his help would go so far. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Cesar was struggling to hide a smile. In that moment, Garnet wondered if these were also men who, like Zevran, had wanted to escape the life of a Crow. Was that why they were now based in Denerim?

"That is a relief," she replied at length, before moving to kiss Ignacio's cheek. "Thank you," she whispered in his ear, before ducking out of the stall and back into the rain.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**I always found the 'looting boots from a chest in a crazed village, then giving them to your lover' a little weird. Even if this IS Dragon Age... &amp; we are talking about an assassin, with ambiguous morals. Never mind wondering how a pair of Antivan boots got to such a secular society, and who's poor corpse they had been looted from in the first place! So this was me rectifying that, as well as neatening up the whole Ignacio plot. **


	58. The Scent of Home

**The Scent of Home **(Zevran PoV)

Blearily, Zevran roused from his deep slumber. He gave a contented sigh. The sleep he had just awoken from had been the most restful of his life. Lazily, he turned over to curl his arm around Garnet and pull her close. Zevran's eyes shot open. The warden was not by his side. All the nights they had shared together, he had never once woken to find the fiery mage gone. Fear gripped him as he sat up, there was no sign of a struggle... which meant she had left of her own free will.

"Idiota!" Zevran murmured angrily to himself.

He buried his head in his hands, as he continued to curse himself. All these many months, he had been fooling himself. Even last night, when he had fully come to believe Garnet was someone he could rely on, trust, perhaps even...

At that moment, Zevran heard gentle footsteps padding along the corridor floor. Ones that stopped outside the chamber door. Quietly, the door was slowly opened, to revealed a rain drenched warden. Who was carrying two, rather soggy looking packages and a sorry looking fabric pouch, that clinked as it swung from it's cord. Garnet's russet cloak was also several shades darker than its usual hue, and Zevran could see rain drops still trickling off the hem, as she discarded it over the back of a nearby chair. All his concerns suddenly fled, as Garnet turned a radiant smile towards him, and a very familiar scent assaulted his nose.

"Mmm... that smell," he grinned. "That is Antivan Leather, isn't it?"

In reply, Garnet's smile merely widened, as she crossed the room to join him back in bed. Without preamble, the warden set one of the packages on the floor along with the small pouch, before handing him the other. The odour that emanated from the brown paper wrapped parcel was distinct.

"I'd know that smell anywhere," Zevran stated, discarding the paper and string.

For a long moment, he regarded the contents with slight amazement. Before he had set off for Ferelden... Maker, even before the death of Rinna, Zevran had coveted a pair of exquisite brown boots, made by the finest cobbler in Antiva City. He had only mentioned them to Garnet once, and that was many months ago. Now, he held a pair identical to the ones he had lusted for.

"I don't know how you found it," Zevran chuckled, still amazed. "But thank you."

Garnet quirked an eyebrow at him. "I thought you'd have leapt out of bed to try them on," she teased.

"But I haven't finished admiring them yet," he retorted, before inhaling deeply. "Can you smell that? Like rotting flesh... just like back in Antiva City!"

"Only an assassin would find that something to be nostalgic about," she goaded.

Zevran tried to level the warden with a scowl, however, it seemed to have missed the mark somewhat. The sound of Garnet's laughter filled the room, and made a warmth bloom in Zevran's chest. As much as he was enamoured with his new boots, they were not enough to drag his attention away from watching how the corner of Garnet's eyes crinkled, or the way she covered her mouth as she tried to stop her giggles. Chuckling himself, Zevran wrapped one arm around Garnet, and unceremoniously dragged her back against him. The position they ended up in, was far from comfortable, and both boots had thumped to the floor as the warden had tried to wriggle out of his grasp. But Zevran held her tight, and soon they were arranged in a strange tangle of limbs and bedding. Garnet's hair spread against the eiderdown like a fiery halo, and Zevran couldn't help but smiling down at her, as he propped himself up on his forearms.

Gently, he stroked her porcelain cheek, brushing an errant lock of hair out of the way as he did. Garnet's hands crept up Zevran's naked arms, only stopping when her fingers could being to slowly card through his unbound hair. In that moment, as he simply gazed at his lover, certain words sat heavily, on the tip of his tongue. It would be so easy to let them tumble out, and yet it was a thought that still scared Zevran to the core. Instead, he swallowed thickly.

"Now, if only you could find me a prostitute or two, a bowl of fish chowder, and a corrupt politician... I'd really feel like I was home," he joked.

Half a smile pulled at Garnet's luscious lips. "We're in Denerim, we could just head down to the Pearl. Wouldn't be hard to find prostitutes _and_ corrupt politicians there," she stated, deadpan. "Fish chowder might be a little trickier though."

Zevran's heart hammered in his chest. The fact that the warden had just accepted his throw-away comment, and not made a fuss about it... even Rinna would have glared daggers at him for the prostitute joke. Each day, Garnet managed to surprise him more and more. Whether it as something major like saving his life yesterday, to laughing of his jokes like today... Zevran couldn't ignore the feeling that the fiery mage was someone special. And despite all his doubts, he had a feeling Garnet Amell was someone worth taking a risk for.

_'Te amo, mi corazón' _Zevran thought, before leaning down and capturing her lips with his.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Now I know that this is technically completely out of sync with when it happens in the game, but I felt this was the best place for those damn boots to make an appearance. For those who would like to know, 'Te amo, mi corazón' translates as 'I love you, my heart' from Spanish.**


	59. Beginning of the End

**Beginning of the End **(Amell PoV)  


With Zevran's new boots and chest piece delivered to their very happy recipient, and her own indulgent purchase of scented oils securely hidden in her travel pack, Garnet had ate a hurried breakfast of barely warm porridge... her own fault for prioritising Zevran over food, before making her way to the Arl's study. Truthfully, she felt like screaming when Teagan had informed her that his brother wished to speak with her in private, but Garnet knew it was her duty to see him.

"Ah, Warden," Arl Eamon greeted, as she entered the room. "I trust you've made yourself comfortable."

Garnet smiled politely. In truth, she was still mightily angry with Isolde's insult yesterday. And unlike his younger brother, Eamon hadn't quite grasped how much it irked her to be referred to as 'warden' all the time. However, dealing with Eamon and Eamon only, because his harpy of a wife never seemed too far away, was a nice change. Even if there was a dark haired, elven woman fidgeting nervously on a stool by the fireplace.

"The rooms _you_ have appointed us are lovely, thank you," she replied.

"I am glad," Eamon stated, gesturing for her to take a seat near the hearth. "Though I am afraid it is likely to be your last rest for a while."

A sardonic smile found it's way to Garnet's lips. Rest wasn't exactly what she would call the fitful night she had spent worrying about Zevran, even knowing that his wound was mended, and that he didn't hate her for killing Taliesen. However, Eamon didn't seem to notice Garnet's demeanour, for he was already turning to introduce the only other person in the room. The nervous looking elf.

"This is Erlina," he introduced, seating himself on the remaining chair. "She's..."

"I am Queen Anora's handmaiden," the woman interrupted in a thick, Orlesian accent. "She sent me here to ask for your help."

"Or perhaps the young lady prefers to speak for herself," Eamon stated, deadpan.

"As she should," Garnet quipped.

Truthfully, she was glad to see another woman act with a mind of her own. It was refreshing to say the least, especially in a repressive city like Denerim. However, the fact this Erlina worked for Loghain's daughter, set Garnet on edge.

"Why would Anora ask us for help?" she queried, cautiously.

A sad look crossed Erlina's face. "The queen, she is in a difficult position," the elf explained. "She loved her husband, no? And trusted her father to protect him. When he returns with no king, and only dark rumours, what is she to think?"

Garnet took a moment to consider what had been said. If what Erlina said was true, Anora had doubts about her father's role and motives in Cailan's death. And currently, Garnet was slightly inclined to believe the elf. There was something starkly honest in the ebony gaze she was being levelled with.

"She worries, no?" Erlina continued. "But when she tries to speak with him, he does not answer. He tells her: 'Not to trouble herself'."

"Are you saying Anora believes Loghain killed Cailan?" Garnet probed.

Erlina shook her head sadly. "My queen suspects she cannot trust her father. And Loghain, he is very subtle, no? But Rendon Howe, he is privy to all the secrets... and not so subtle. So she goes to Howe. A visit from the queen to the new arl of Denerim is only a matter of courtesy. And she demands answers."

Whether she liked it or not, Garnet had an inclining of where this tale was going. And it certainly wasn't going to have a happy outcome for the queen. Valiantly, she bit back the urge to sigh.

"I'm guessing that didn't go so well," she said instead.

"He calls her every sort of name. Traitor being the kindest, and locks her in the guest room," Erlina explained.

"And Loghain would allow that?" Garnet asked, shocked.

Even Eamon had leant forward in his chair, apparently surprised by this revelation.

"King Cailan was like a son to him, and Loghain left him to die," Erlina replied, sounding as if she spoke through gritted teeth. "Does he love Anora more? Who can say?"

"What do you think?" she pressed, gently.

The tears that filled the elf's eyes where unexpected. "I think... her life is in danger. I heard Howe say she would make a greater ally dead than alive. Especially if her death could be blamed on Arl Eamon."

"Would Loghain really kill his own daughter just to frame you?" Garnet asked the arl.

"We may have no choice but to trust Anora," Eamon replied. "The queen is well loved. If Loghain succeeded in pinning her death on me..." He sighed. "I'm not sure it's a risk we can afford to take."

Garnet nodded solemnly. "We have to help. But we need a plan."

"I have some uniforms," Erlina announced. "Arl Howe hires so many new guards every day, a few more will not cause much stir. I can show you to the servants' entrance. We must slip in and out with my queen, before anyone is the wiser."

"Agreed, though we will need time to prepare," Garnet replied. _'And for me to wrap my head around this' _she added silently.

"I will go ahead to Howe's estate. Please, meet me there as soon as you can," the elf implored.

"Midday," she stated. "Most of the servants and guards should be preoccupied with lunch about then."

With that decided, both Erlina and Garnet stood to take their leave, and Arl Eamon gave her a respectful nod as she left the room. Quickly, she walked the stone lined corridors headed towards the room that her and Zevran had taken as their own, only pausing briefly to smile or nod at the mainly elven staff that bustled about the place. Once she reached her chamber, Garnet closed the door tightly behind her, and leaning her head against the lacquered surface. She let out a weary sigh.

* * *

**Author's Note**

**So, as you probably guessed, this is my take on the meeting with Erlina. I thought it was time we got the story moving on a little bit!**


	60. A Giant Leap

**A Giant Leap **(Zevran PoV)

Standing in the shadows cast by the roaring fireplace, Zevran silently watched as Garnet sat in one of the plush armchairs that face the heath. Even if he hadn't known that the warden's day had been a gruelling affair filled with private meetings with Eamon, Teagan and Alistair, the weary sigh that escaped her would have given it away. By Garnet's feet, Cadoc whimpered in sympathy. Nervously, Zevran rubbed the golden, jewelled hoop earring he held between his thumb and index finger. He had no doubts that the mabari knew he was in the room, for Cadoc didn't miss a thing, especially when it came to protecting Garnet. However, unlike Alistair, Zevran had somehow won the favour of the mabari, who seemed content to conspire with him... or at least keep his hiding secret.

Despite his chest feeling like it was caught in a vice, Zevran took as deep a inhalation as his nerves would allow, before stepping out of the safety of the shadows and crossed the room. He had warred with himself all day, about whether he should risk it all to tell Garnet how he felt, or if he should just be content to let things remain as they are. In the end, after much consideration... and a very surprisingly, insightful conversation with a relatively sober Oghren, Zevran had come up with a compromise.

Gently, he lay a hand on Garnet's shoulder, to alert her to his presence. A small smile tugged at his mouth, when he barely felt the warden flinch. Over the many months they had travelled together, Garnet was getting harder and harder to surprise. He wasn't sure if the sights they witnessed on a daily basis was desensitising her, or if the warden had simply grown to accept, or even expect his presence around her. Taking another steadying breath, Zevran held out the earring on the flat of his palm. The firelight sparkled off the polished gold hoop, and made the emeralds and diamonds that were inset into the precious metal, sparkle like captured magic particles. Silently, he watched as Garnet's eyes widened slightly.

"Here, it seems an appropriate moment to give you this," Zevran said, quietly.

"Is that... an earring?" Garnet queried, her brow furrowing slightly

"I acquired it on my very first job for the Crows," he explained, crouching down in front of her chair. "A Rivaini merchant prince. He was wearing a single, jewelled earring when I killed him. In fact, that's about all he was wearing..." Zevran admitted, feeling a little sheepish.

However, Garnet's verdant eyes danced in amusement, as she evidently tried to stop herself from laughing. The corners of her berry red lips twitched in an effort not to smile. She made no move to reach for the earring, however the fingers of her left hand laced with his own, that had been casually resting on her knee.

"I thought it was beautiful, and took it to mark the occasion," Zevran continued. "I've kept it ever since. And... I'd like you to have it."

The silence that followed seemed to last a life time, as he waited for her answered. An unexpected lump of worry formed in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. For her part, Garnet simply sat, calmly regarding him. In retrospect, it was probably a mere heartbeat that Zevran waited for the gentle smile she gave him, but to him, it truly felt like a life time had passed.

"Thank you Zev, it's beautiful," Garnet replied at last.

"Don't get the wrong idea about it," he said hurriedly, nervousness making him ramble. "You killed Taliesen, that means I'm free... at least for now. Feel free to sell it, wear it, whatever you like... it's really the least I could give you in return."

For the briefest moment, an unreadable look passed over Garnet's beautiful face. But it was gone before Zevran could make sense of it. Subconsciously, he tightened the hold he had of her hand, silently berating himself for what he had just said. Before, he had worried Garnet would be offended by how he came to acquire the earring, now Zevran feared he had ruined the gesture by his babbling attempt to protect himself and his feelings. However, the small knowing smile was pulling at Garnet's lips again.

"So... _not _a token of affection then?" she queried, raising an eyebrow.

"I... er..." he stammered, whilst his brain screamed: _'YES!' _

Zevran's heart began to beat faster, and he could have sworn his palms were beginning to sweat. Nothing he could think of, even battling the dragon outside of Haven, was as daunting as this. All he wanted was to admit that yes, the earring was a token of affection. Actually a token of something even more substantial. It was the only thing that Zevran had ever considered truly his, something he had kept hidden from the Crows in order for it to remain his. He hadn't been lying when he had told Garnet it was the least he could give her, for what he owed her, for how he felt about her... however, it was the only thing that was _his_ to give to Garnet.

"Look, just... just take it," Zevran almost pleaded, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he felt. "It's... it's meant a lot of me, but so have..." He stopped himself, just before the words he was frightened to say tumbled out. "So has what you've done. Please, take it."

For a long, weighted moment, Garnet merely regarded him quietly. Her verdant eyes trained on him, and only him. It was a look Zevran noticed the warden shared with Morrigan, a look that made the recipient feel as if the mage could read their thoughts. He shifted uncomfortably, before another slight smile formed on Garnet's lips.

"If you are sure, I am happy to," she replied, quietly.

The relief Zevran felt was palpable. Even though he felt sure that the warden knew the earring meant more than what he was admitting. Still, she had accepted it, and Zevran gladly placed the jewelled earring into her hand. Though he hoped Garnet hadn't noticed how his own hand trembled slightly as he did.

"I have no better way to say it," Zevran admitted, honestly. For he had no idea how to voice what he felt, and he was grateful she hadn't pushed for a deeper explanation. "Thank you."

* * *

**Author's Note**

**I guess I should dedicate this chapter especially to starryskyondragon'sback, who was so desperate for the scene to be written! Not much else to say about this chapter, I think it speaks for itself! lol**


	61. Serve Yourself

**Serve Yourself **(Amell PoV)

Garnet shuddered. Who in their right mind had the door to the dungeon leading from their bedchamber? It was just another piece of the puzzle that said what a sick and twisted man Howe was. And the dungeon itself... it was the stuff of nightmares. Blood marred every wall, floor and surface they had come across so far. And that wasn't including any from the guards they had to kill.

Subconsciously, Garnet touched the jewelled, gold earring that hung in her right ear. She had been surprised when Zevran had offered it to her, and Garnet had the feeling it was a more meaningful gesture than the rogue let on. Regardless, she was touched by the gesture, and feeling the weight of the hoop in her ear was oddly comforting. Out of the corner of her eyes, Garnet noticed Zevran smile in her direction, and she knew he had caught her in the act. She returned his smile with a small one of her own, before taking a steadying breathe and pushing open the next door that barred their path, expecting to find the worst behind it.

"What? Who goes there?" called a voice, presumably belonging to a guard.

Alistair and Zevran were the first to burst through into the gloomy hallway, quickly followed by Garnet and Morrigan who simultaneously readied fire spells. However, instead of a horde of guards waiting for them, they were greeted by the sight of a lone guardsman being strangled by a prisoner in the cell behind him. Out of pity, Garnet quickly tossed Duncan's dagger at the man's chest, ending his life. Zevran had an appreciative hum of approval at her improved aim, for it was something he had been trying to coach her on for many weeks.

Cautiously, she approached the dead guard, giving the prisoner a quick glance as she did. She knelt, making sure to keep out of reach of the bars, just in case, and retrieved her beloved dagger. Unceremoniously, she wiped it on her black, leather leggings, before sheathing it. Then she set about riffling through the guard's belt pouches, hoping to find a key. Truth be told, Garnet had the feeling that anyone unfortunate enough to end up in Howe's dungeon was probably wrongly imprisoned anyway, and she couldn't fault the man behind the bars for killing his jailer.

"I thank you for creating such a distraction, stranger," the prisoner stated, in an accent that reminded Garnet a little of Leliana. "I have been waiting days for the opportunity."

At that, Garnet looked up at him, taking in his appearance. Unsurprisingly, he had been stripped of his possession, leaving him in just his undergarments. Garnet tried to ignore the impressive physique, one that spoke of a life as a soldier, and met his grey eyes. They were surprisingly friendly, giving their meeting location. She would have guessed his age was close to Duncan's. His hair was black, coming down to his collar bone, and his beard gave the impression that it was usually closely trimmed. He was quite attractive, in a grizzled way.

"Why? The accommodations are so cosy here," Garnet joked, finally finding the key.

Without hesitation, she unlocked the cell door. Wincing at the loud creek the hinges gave, as the metal grate was shoved open. Silently, she prayed that no more guards were nearby to hear it. Even if this man was a soldiers, as he appeared to be, she doubted his chances with no armour and after suffering Howe's hospitality.

The prisoner chuckled, though it sounded a little rasping. "Do you think you could..."

He gestured to the guard's armour, kneeling down to start removing it. Though as he did so, he let out a pained gasped. Instantly, Garnet was by his side, her hands glowing with healing magic even before she had touched him.

"Zev, think you can strip that blighter?" she asked, nodding towards the dead guard.

"Of course, mi amora," he agreed, quickly setting about his task.

It wasn't long before Garnet had healed the worst of the man's wounds, sufficient enough that he could dress in the armour, that fortunately fit quite well. Morrigan silently handed him a health potion, which he drank in a few gulps. It was at that moment, that Alistair returned from his self-decided watch post at the end of the corridor.

"It looks fairly clear," he informed.

"Alistair? Is that you?" the prisoner asked.

Garnet glanced between the two men, as did Morrigan. Zevran, on the other hand, merely raised an eyebrow.

"Who...? Wait, I do know you," Alistair said, sounding a little less confused than he looked. "You were at my joining."

"Friend of yours?" she asked, looking at her fellow warden expectantly.

"He's one of us," the warrior explained, coming to stand right beside her. "A warden from Orlais. Jader, I think. Or was it Montsimmard?" He shock his head, before regarding the freed prisoner. "I'm afraid I don't remember your name."

"How unexpected," Morrigan muttered, in her usually scathing way.

Garnet barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Alistair could be a bit forgetful, places and names had not been his strong suit so far in their journeys, it was why he was forbidden from reading the map. Even Oghren with a hangover had more navigational sense than the ex-Templar did. The freed prisoner... warden, also seemed unsurprised by Alistair's admission. There was humour in his grey eyes, as he regarded Garnet.

"I am Riordan, senior warden of Jader, but born and raised in Highever," he stated, offering her a bow. "And glad to be home."

"I'm sure you were thrilled with your welcoming party, no?" Zevran quipped.

For some reason, Garnet suddenly remembered the papers she had... liberated from Howe's bureau. They bore the seal of the Grey Wardens, but since all Fereldan wardens, bar herself and Alistair, had died at Ostagar, she wondered if they belonged to Riordan. Carefully, Garnet pulled the folded parchment out of her belt pouch, and offered them to him.

"Are these papers yours?" she asked.

A surprised smile lit up Riordan's face. "Yes," he replied, sounding relieved. "These are my records. The names of the dead I could identify at Ostagar, and what I could find of Duncan's recruitment records. As well as copies of the joining ritual I rescued from out Denerim vault... Those should never be seen by any outside eyes, but I trust in their encryption."

"Joining ritual, does that mean you could induct more wardens?" Alistair asked, eagerly.

Riordan sighed. "Would that I could, for Fereldan sorely needs them. The supplies needed should have been in the vault, but it was gone. I can only imagine someone took it out, and Loghain either confiscated or destroyed it."

"Loghain," Alistair almost spat, his hatred clear.

Garnet lay a hand on his shoulder. "He will pay," she said quietly and solemnly.

"From the rumours flying around Denerim, removing him from the throne is your plan, no?" Riordan queried.

"It is," Garnet replied. "Though there are more pressing concern. Have you seen Howe?"

"I saw him go further into the dungeons, he may still be there," he replied, a hard glint entering his eyes.

She silently regarded him for a moment. "How _did _Howe capture you?"

"With an offer of hospitality and a poisoned chalice. I was fool enough to think Loghain didn't yet know who I was," Riordan explained.

"We've cleared the way. Will you be alright leaving here?" Garnet asked, concerned.

Poison had a way of lingering in a person's system, and without knowing what poison he was drugged with, it was almost impossible to know it's lasting affects. She wanted him out of the estate, to relative safety. Preferably somewhere they would be able to find him again. Garnet had questions she would like to ask, and she also wanted Zevran to see if he could figure out what poison was used by whatever symptoms Riordan would hopefully describe.

"I should be," he nodded.

"We've been staying with Arl Eamon, at his estate," Alistair stated. "If you need a place to stay, I'm sure he'd make you welcome."

"At Arl Eamon's then," Riordan smiled, giving them a friendly nod.

"I'd advise you speak to the Arl or the Bann," Zevran supplied.

"Yes... Lady Isolde is a shrew," Morrigan agreed.

Riordan chuckled. "I thank you for your advice." Before he left, he grasped hold of Garnet's shoulder. "Good luck... sister."

* * *

**Author's Note**

**Obviously, this is my take on meeting Riordan, who I have a soft spot for. However, there were some things in the in-game scene that bothered me, so I tried to rectify them here. For those who may be wondering, the chapter title is inspired by the bottle of warden alcohol you can find in DA: Inquisition that bears Riordan's name.**

**Just a little FYI, I will be taking a break for a week due to family issues. One of my aunts has taken very ill, and I need to be able to focus on supporting my Mam. I know you will understand, as you are always lovely when I need to take a week off. I very much appreciate your continued support, it means more to me than I can express. Thank you.**


	62. Confessions

**Confessions **(Zevran PoV)**  
**

Without question, Zevran had followed Garnet's request and picked the locks on every cell door they had come across. He wasn't exactly surprised, he had seen her concerned gaze as she regarded her fellow warden, Riordan. She was simply the type of person who had to help, no matter what, and he admired that about her. As they had traversed the dank corridors of the dungeon, they had released anyone they had come across. Some had injuries so grievous that they had to be put out of their misery, and Zevran had granted them their peace, so Garnet didn't have to. Others had been... not fortunate, for what they had suffered at the hands of Howe, even the Crows wouldn't have dreamt up... but at least they were able to make it out of the dungeons alive.

There was Oswyn, the noble friend of a missing soldier from Ostagar. Howe had imprisoned and tortured him, to save him revealing that Loghain told his men to quit the field. And Ser Irminric, the Templar who had been charged with bringing in Garnet's old friend Jowan. But were the mage had been captured and sent to poison Arl Eamon, the Templar had been on the receiving end of Howe's hospitality. Zevran had seen the tears brimming in Garnet's eyes, as she had healed the Templar the best she could, before he staggered towards the exit. And knowing her, there was no doubt she felt personally responsible for the man's misfortune.

They had also encountered Rexel, another survivor from Ostagar. When he had revealed he had eaten darkspawn flesh to survive, Zevran had watch Garnet and Alistair exchange worried glances. His own mind went back to the tainted dwarf: Ruck, that they had encountered in the deep roads. He knew that his warden still worried about the ghoul, and Zevran had honestly suspected that she would simply let Rexel go, as she had with Ruck. However, Alistair had stepped in and mercifully ended the man's life, but not before Garnet had promised to let his family know he wasn't coming home.

The last cell Zevran had unlocked, was that of a fellow elf named Soris. His story touched him the most, not because of a sense of shared heritage, but because of how harrowing the tale was. Even before he had met Garnet, Zevran would have been able to understand the man's need to rescue his betrothed. Even without figuring out what sort of man this... Vaughan Kendall was. He didn't say it out right, but Zevran had decided that if he were to ever meet that noble, he would do Soris a favour and end the bastard's life.

As they were about to leave the cell block, the sound of banging and muffled shouting could be heard through a heavy oak door. At Garnet's silent nod, Zevran set about picking the lock. Before long, the door swung open, revealing a smaller set of cells. Only one was occupied, and the man contained was the only prisoner they had encountered so far to be wearing clothes. Fine clothes it appeared, despite the grime, and how dishevelled the man was.

"Who's there? Stay away," a prisoner called out. "You can't do this to me. I'll have you flayed! I'm the Arl of Denerim!"

"And I'm the queen of Antivan," Garnet replied, glibly.

Zevran fought back the urge to laugh, though a smirk pulled at his lips all the same. He wasn't sure why his warden had opted to use his homeland in her retort, but it was oddly endearing to him. The fact that she subconsciously touched the earring he gave her, that she seemed to wear proudly, just added to the warm feeling that radiated from his chest.

"I'm Vaughan Kendall, heir to the arling of Denerim! It's true," the man said. "Too many of our troops were lost at Ostagar. When the riots started, Howe came with his men to reinforce the garrison here. Or that's what he claimed. As soon as I let him into the palace, he threw me in here. 'One more victim of the elven uprising,' he said... Let me out of here! I'll do anything."

Anger began to coil in Zevran's gut. This was the man Soris had told them about, the noble he had decided would meet their end by his daggers. He moved nearer to Garnet, who had walked towards the cell, and stood close enough to speak into her left ear.

"He is the Arl's son that Soris mentioned," Zevran prompted.

"In my room, there's a lockbox full of sovereigns. Free me, and the key is yours," Vaughan bargained, glaring at Zevran.

Garnet's green eyes turned to him, an evident question in her gaze.

"We don't need his key to gain access to the gold," he assured, confidently.

"Bloody knife ear," Vaughan spat. "How can you let such vermin near you?" he demanded of Garnet.

Zevran would have ended the bastard's life there and then, for his bigotry was evident. However, the warden beat him to it. Moving faster than he had known her able to do, Garnet closed the distance between herself and the bars, grabbing the collar of Vaughan's tunic as she did.

"You're speaking about the man I love," she hissed.

There was a gasp from Alistair, who stood with Morrigan guarding their exit. Though Zevran wasn't sure if it was at Garnet's words, or her actions. For in the next heartbeat, she had drawn Rinna's dagger, and sunk the blade deep into Vaughan's gut. Morrigan snorted at the noble's shocked gasp. Zevran was more than a little stunned at the scene in front of him, though even he was unsure if it was Garnet's words or her actions that surprised him the most. The warden wasn't one to take another's life easily, so what she had done was out of character. However, to hear _she_... the most dazzling woman he had ever met, felt so strongly about him, was breath taking. To see her defend him so viscously, was endearing, satisfying and arousing. And Zevran couldn't help his smirk returning, as he watched Garnet twist the blade before she pulled it free. Almost nonchalantly, she wiped the blood and gore on her leggings, before sheathing the dagger.

"I think we are done here," she declared, not quite meeting his eye.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
**First up, a big thank you to everyone who left me kind messages last week. It really meant a lot. So... you may or may not have noticed, but I really intensely disliked Vaughan. He had to die. And yes, I do think it had to be by Garnet's hand!**


	63. Save the Queen

**Save the Queen **(Amell PoV)

Garnet couldn't decided if things had gotten better or worse. They had managed to free all the prisoners from Howe's dungeon. Well... all bar one. In truth, she was having a hard time feeling guilty that she had taken a life in such a cold and callous manner. But every part of her screamed that Vaughan had deserved the punishment she dished out, perhaps even more than that. They had also managed to deal with Howe himself, Morrigan freezing him and Alistair landing the killing blow, whilst she and Zevran had mopped up the guards. They had even managed to release the captured queen, and Garnet had been hard pressed not to chuckle at how uncomfortable Anora looked in the ill fitting armour she wore. It seemed they had been on the home straight, just mere feet from freedom... until Ser Cauthrien, Loghain's second in commander, barred the exit with a contingency of soldiers.

"Warden, in the name of the regent, I am placing you under arrest for the murder on Rendon Howe and his men-at-arms. Surrender, and you may be shown mercy," the warrior announce.

Beside her, Zevran tensed and Garnet knew he was already reaching for his throwing daggers. Subtly, she tapped his boot with her foot, causing him to glance at her. She shook her head, keeping her eyes on Loghain's guards the enter time. Garnet had no desire for anymore bloodshed, especially if it could be avoided, she also didn't want to alert their enemy to the queen's presence. Silently, she took a deep breath.

"You do not know the whole story," Garnet said, calmly. "But I will stand down."

Behind her, she heard a gasp from Erlina, and Morrigan muttered: "Amell!" barely under her breath. Zevran was almost glaring at her, the look a mixture of disbelief and worry, but also what seemed like betrayal in his striking eyes. Anora remained silent, though Alistair had no such compulsion.

"Why stop now?" he demanded. "Cauthrien is all that stands between us and freedom."

"Are you sure this is what you wish?" Erlina also asked, quietly.

Garnet shook her head again. "Killing them just reinforces Loghain's lies about the wardens," she sighed, wearily.

"I am surprised this ended peacefully," Cauthrien stated, her tone sombre.

Quietly, Garnet regarded the other woman for a moment, taking in the thin press of her lips, and the fact the soldier wouldn't quite meet her eye. She had to wonder if Cauthrien was also doubting the regent, because the warrior didn't seem too happy to be taking them in. And if she had merely wanted a fight, Garnet was under no dissolution that they'd have been engaged in battle the moment they entered the hallway.

"Will you give me moment?" she asked.

The question caused Cauthrien's eyes to snap back to Garnet, and after a moment's pause, the warrior nodded. Without preamble, she unclipped her daggers and bow, silently handing them to Zevran, who accepted them without comment. His gaze looked less betrayed, though he was still frowning at her. Reluctantly, Garnet unfastened the earring he had given her, placing it carefully in his waiting hand.

"Will you keep this safe for me?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

Mutely he nodded, though subtly squeezed her fingers before stepping away from her. To Garnet's dismay, he didn't look at her again. She chanced a glance at Morrigan, who merely nodded solemnly to her, understand her silent request to keep an eye on Zevran. Silently, she stepped away from her friends, surprised when Erlina gently grabbed her hand, and offered a quick curtsey of thanks.

"Bring the warden," Cauthrien instructed the lesser guards, sounding almost dispondant. "Loghain doesn't care about the rest."

"Two wardens," Alistair announced, stepping up beside her.

Garnet turned a questioning gaze to him, she had hoped he'd have escaped with the rest, especially considering the plan Arl Eamon had for him. Though it seemed the ex-Templar had very different plans. He shook his head, meeting her gaze unwaveringly.

"You're not facing this alone," he stated, before handing his sword and shield to Morrigan.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****I was always surprised when you get your gear back from being in prison, and none of your personal belongings are missing. With how corrupt we know the guards to be, it just seemed odd. So I thought I'd give some set up as to how nothing goes missing. **


	64. Green Mile

**Green Mile **(Zevran PoV)

Disgusted, Zevran stormed out of the estate. All the arl had wittered on about had been Alistair. He hadn't cared that Garnet had also been captured, and being a mage, was more at risk. It was clear that Eamon didn't care at all that the _only_ person doing anything to stop the blight was at Loghain's mercy, he was only concerned about the king's bastard! It made him sick. As for that queen... Garnet was worth a thousand of her, and no-one cared that she'd all but sacrificed herself to free the noble shrew. No... that wasn't true, and it was unfair. Cadoc was faithfully trotting by Zevran's side, knowing his mistress was in trouble. Riordan had also been concerned, though the warden was still too weak from Howe's hospitality to offer any aid. And Teagan had looked positively aghast, whilst demanding that they do something to help _both_ Garnet and Alistair. He had even mentioned the fiery redhead first, so perhaps he cared more about people than positions after all.

Still, it wasn't enough, and their own companions were letting Garnet down. Sure, most of them had seemed concerned, and Zevran had a sneaky suspicion that Morrigan was concocting some potion or other to blow up the gates of Fort Dracon, but still it wasn't enough. And Wynne... Zevran had long ago accepted the wizened mage didn't like him, but he thought she cared more about Garnet than seeing her as _just_ a warden. For Wynne had only stressed the need to free both her and Alistair, purely on the basis of needing to stop the blight. It made him furious. As did Sten, Leliana and Oghren... even Morrigan seemed far too content to simply wait. To wait until Eamon had pulled his head out of his rear and come up with a plan, to wait until it was too late and Garnet would be dead.

That thought stopped Zevran in his tracks, and he leant against the rugged stone wall, with the earring he had given Garnet tightly clutched in his hand. He closed his eyes, tight, hating the sting that prick at them. It had... hurt, when Garnet had removed the earring, but he understood why she had done it. She didn't want Loghain's men getting their hands on it, just like her weapons. And the look Garnet had given him, when she had placed the small hoop in his hand, had constricted Zevran's chest in a way he couldn't explain. He still couldn't believe she had done what she did, simply handing herself over. Even Alistair had been itching for a fight, for Maker's sake, and the ex-Templar was usually as docile as a lamb. But no... Garnet had just given herself up, without a fight, stating she didn't want to add credence to Loghain's lies. She knew, _knew_, what would be waiting for her and she'd still gone. He still couldn't believe Garnet could be so stupid, so thoughtless, so... selfless. She was going to be the death of him, and if any harm had come to her, Zevran intended to take down as many of the cabrónes with him as he could.

"Flaming nug-humpers, elf! You walk fast," an unmistakable voice exclaimed.

Reluctantly, Zevran opened his eyes and regarded the dwarf. "Oghren..."

"Look elf, I know you love her. And don't go trying to deny it." The dwarf fixed Zevran with a bleary eyed stare, when he went to deny the accusation. "She the first and last thing you think about in a day, your chest is tight whenever she isn't with you, you feel physically sick at the thought of her being hurt, and your judgement is screwed every which way. I know... I've been there."

Silently, Zevran simply regarded his companion, and Cadoc whined where he sat at his feat. It was the most coherant and thought provoking thing the dwarf had ever said, and it was uncomfortably accurate... He was in love with Garnet. Strictly speaking, Zevran had realised that when he had given her the earring, but hearing it from someone like Oghren. The malodurous dwarf was barely sober enough to string two words together most of the time, if it was obvious to him, then it was surely obvious to everyone else. Then again, he had tracked his estranged wife to the Deep Roads, only to lose Branka to her own madness. If anyone would understand, Zevran supposed it would be Oghren. However, that still didn't explain why he was here. Though before he had a chance to ask, footsteps could be heard rounding the corner of the alley they were stood him. Deftly, Zevran slipped Garnet's earring into the concealed pouch beneath his chest piece, and went for his daggers. Oghren simply laughed. For a moment, he considered slicing the dwarf's throat. Garnet needed help, and he was stood their laughing when Maker-knows-who was baring down on them. Then, when Cadoc gave a welcoming yap, Zevran realised what had amused Oghren so much. Standing at the far side of the alley, was Morrigan, Leliana and Sten.

"You cannot storm Fort Dracon unprepared," the Qunari announced. "You need a plan."

In truth, Zevran hadn't even realised he had reached the prison, until it was pointed out to him. Which uncomfortably proved Oghren's point about his judgement being compromised. Still, he managed to force a smirk as he regarded Sten, readying a quip about 'understatement of the year' award.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****So I wanted a little bit of a lead up to the warden's being rescued, as we as a moment to focus on what could be going through Zevran's mind. Also, Oghren had to make an appearence here &amp; sorry, not sorry, to any Wynne fans. I just really don't like that self-righteous biddy! For those who want to know, cabrónes means bastards in Spanish.**


	65. Captured

**Captured **(Amell PoV)

With a groan, Garnet forced her eyes to open, well... her left eye. Her right remained stubbornly swollen shut. She shivered. Clad only in her small clothes, the cold of the stone floor was seeping into her body. Though in retrospect, Garnet was glad she at least had them on. The way the guards had leered and groped at her, she had a feeling it was a very close thing. Bile rose in her throat, and she gagged on reflex at the memory.

"Oh, you're awake. I was starting to worry."

Garnet blinked. It took her longer to recognise the voice as Alistair's, than she care to admit. It made her wonder if the beating she had taken had cracked her skull. The guards had certainly managed to break several of her ribs, if the way her chest protested when Alistair helped her sit up, was anything to go by. She regarded him, through bleary vision, taking in the cuts and bruises that littered his well defined body. It didn't come as much surprise that his state of undress was equal to hers. His armour would sell for an excellent price, after all.

"Are you alright?" Garnet whispered, her throat feeling parched.

She knew she hadn't screamed during her beating and manhandling, she'd been determined to refuse her captors the satisfaction. And though she wasn't sure how long they had been held captive so far, Garnet knew it had been many hours since they had drank anything. Which was probably the cause of the gritty feeling in her throat. It didn't help that the lingering effect of a Templar's smite still made her head throb, and rendered her powers useless. Vaguely, Garnet mused that she would dearly love to know how Loghain had acquired the services of a Templar in the first place.

"I've been worse," Alistair replied almost glibly, gingerly putting an arm around her shoulder. "I'll be better when we get out of here."

It took a great deal of effort for Garnet to smile at her fellow warden. She was still a little annoyed that he had insisted of throwing himself on the proverbial sword with her, when she had surrendered. Though she was utterly relieved to have him with her, all the same. In the back of her mind, Garnet wondered if she should feel uncomfortable, snuggling into his gentle embrace, in the state of undress they were both in. But his body heat helped to chase some of the chill away from her bones, and ease some of the throbbing ache from her battered limbs. However, Garnet valiantly tried to block out the scent of their drying blood mixing with the other repugnant smells that permeated the whole prison.

"You think you're getting out of here?" said a voice from the other side of the bars.

Panic immediately gripped Garnet's heart, and her whole body tensed. In that moment, she believed it was a guard come for her again, one intent on finishing the abuse they had started earlier. However, it proved to be another prisoner, who was as undressed and battered as they were, his left eye was a ring of angry black and purple bruises. He leant against the stout iron bars that separated their cells, and regarded them critically, but not unkindly.

"Zevran will come," she replied, confidently.

"Are you sure?" Alistair asked, not sounding convinced.

If her damaged face would have let her, Garnet would have scowled at her friend. Damn, if she had the energy, she would have probably shouted at him. She knew Alistair still didn't fully trust Zevran, even if he was more subtle about it than Wynne was, but Garnet really hoped he would have accepted her partner by now. She winced involuntarily at the thought. Partner. Lover definitely, but was Zevran her partner? Garnet truly wished she could call him that. She she had stopped trying to deny to herself that she loved him a while ago, but she still had no idea how he felt about her. Though there really wasn't a doubt in her mind that he would be trying to form a plan to rescue them. Questionable career not withstanding, Zevran was a very loyal soul. However, Garnet didn't know if he viewed their relationship as anything more than friends with benefits. The earring that he had given her hinted that he did, but she just couldn't be sure.

"Just one person? Assaulting Fort Drakon?" the other prisoner queried, forcing Garnet out of her thoughts. "Good luck with that."

"There will be others too," she said, managing a tiny smile. "Oghren is probably helping to lead the charge."

Her comment drew a small snort of humour from Alistair. "Maker help us!"

* * *

**Author's Note**

**I wanted to combine both scenarios of waking up in prison together, the one with Alistair and the one alone. This is what I came up with.  
**


	66. The Famous Broma Brothers

**The Famous Broma Brothers **(Zevran PoV)

Leliana's thievery skills would forever be legendary in Zevran's mind. How his fellow rogue had managed to appropriate their disguises so quickly, he would never be sure. The fact that they actually fit, and well, was something else that baffled him. As did the way Oghren had barely grumbled about having to exchanged his lived in armour, for the bright orange and rich red velvet of their new clothing. It spoke volumes of how the cantankerous dwarf viewed the two wardens... though Zevran had a sneaky suspicion it was more Oghren's regard for Garnet that was compelling him to help, rather than what he thought of Alistair. The ex-Templar was a nice enough fellow, but he certainly didn't have the same compassion and unceasing kind nature that the fiery mage did.

Zevran's mind had been so preoccupied by these thoughts, that he was only faintly aware that they had reached the inside entranceway of Fort Drakon. The guards on the perimeter gate and the first set of doors leading into the fort, had waved them through without incident. He nodded politely to a passing Chantry mother, and was thankful that both Leliana and Morrigan were disguised as lay-sisters nearby. The fact that the witch had deigned to scrub her face and don the hideous Chantry robes, was yet another example of the type of loyalty that Garnet inspired. To complete their back up, Sten and Cadoc waited by the outer gates of the fort. Ready and alert, in case back up would be required when they fled with Garnet and Alistair. Hopefully it was just a precaution, rather than a necessity. But since they had no idea of how the wardens were being treated, and what they were being subjected to, Zevran was glad of their assistance.

"And what are you supposed to be?" a guard queried, when they approached the next set of doors.

"We Ser, are performers from the Antivan City Circus. The famous Broma Brothers! Surely, you have heard of us?" Zevran stated.

In truth, he was a little surprised that was what rolled off his tongue. True, their disguises were certainly bright enough that they could pass as circus performers, and his rogues training would certainly allow him to demonstrate some acrobatic skills if required, though he had no idea what Oghren would do to pull off the ruse. Other than fight and belch, Zevran wasn't sure if the dwarf had any other talents. Still, what was said, was said. And to be fair to Oghren, he didn't even bat an eye and being pronounced as a circus act.

"You don't look like brothers," the same guarded stated, his voice having a gormless quality to it.

"How can you say that?" Zevran asked, sounding affronted. "Are your eyes failing? Look at us! We are twins... not identical of course, but twins, nonetheless."

"I'm the pretty one," Oghren stated, deadpan.

Zevran was hard pressed not to laugh at that, though he was unable to stop the corner of his lip twitching in his effort not to smile. Oghren's comment and given him an idea that could work. Maybe acrobatics might be out of the question, but perhaps they could pull off a comedy routine. The dwarf did have a dry humour, and a surprisingly quick wit, for someone who was mostly drunk every waking minute.

"Right... so what are you doing here?" the guard asked.

"We are here for the commander of this fine establishment," Zevran replied. "It is his birthday, no?"

"It's not the commander's birthday, is it?" a second guard asked, looking mildly worried.

"Forgetting a man's birthday, that's harsh," Oghren muttered, shaking his head.

"Don't tell me you forgot!" he exclaimed. "What kind of terrible man at arms are you? No doubt he is crushed. It is fortunate indeed, that the regent sent us to entertain him."

"Well, wait over there," the second guard instructed, pointing to a small anti-room. "I'll get the captain."

Silently, Zevran and Oghren went to wait in the small chamber. Tricking guards never proved too difficult, most where imbeciles, employed simply to stand around and looking halfway menacing. Captains and those of higher rank could prove a little more tricky, since they were usually only advanced from common guard due to showing some brains and common sense. So confronting the captain could prove a little more challenging, though he was impressed with how Oghren was playing along so far.

"There! Not so difficult was it?" Zevran inquired, once he was certain they were not being eavesdropped.

"Heh... easy for you to say, elf," Oghren chuckled. "These clown pants are riding up something fierce."

Before Zevran could reply, or think of something to banish that image out of his mind, a third guard joined them in the anti-room. His armour gleamed in the flickering candlelight, and he help himself more erect than any of the previous guards they had encountered so far. Which presumably meant he was the captain.

"All right, what's this about?" the man asked.

"We are the famous... Broma Brothers, of the Antivan City Circus!" Zevran announce. "Surely you are expecting us. We have travelled here at great expense to perform at the particular request of Teryn Loghain."

"Never heard of you," the captain stated.

Zevran feigned shock. "What?! Do you hear this, brother?" he asked, turning to Oghren. "What sort of uncivilised country is this? We have performed for archons and empresses!"

"For the beautiful daughters of noble households..." Oghren grinned, lecherously.

"To... to have travelled such a distance as a personal favour to Loghain, only to be turned away at the door by some uncultured soldier! Unthinkable!"

"Oh for Andraste's sake... fine!" the captain huffed. "Go perform in the main hall, I don't care."

As the guard stomped off, Zevran and Oghren exchanged glances, before discretely checking the weapons they had concealed under their doublets. There was not doubt in his mind that he would be perfectly capable of fighting with the daggers, he had done so on many occasions for the Crows. However, Zevran was concerned for his companion, he'd only ever seen the dwarf fight with a great axe. It was rather imperative for them to find a more suitable weapon, should they need to fight. Pushing the thought to back of his mind, Zevran set out side by side with Oghren, subconsciously patting the hidden pouch that concealed Garnet's earring. He wasn't entirely sure why he had brought it, but he knew he needed to give it back to the mage as soon as possible. It didn't take long for them to cross the expanse of stone floor that ran the length of the next great room. And Zevran critically studied the groups of guards that stood loitering around the hall as they passed, gauging how well equipped they were, and what skills each would possess. Once again, their progress was blocked by a solid oak door, though this time only a single female guard barred the way.

"It's just one officer," Oghren whispered, before pausing for a moment. "By a room full of guards, in a fortress full of them." The dwarf shrugged. "What could possibly go wrong?"

"All yours then," Zevran replied, already eyeing the ballistas that dotted the room.

"State your business," the guard demanded, as the dwarf approached her.

Activating his stealth abilities, Zevran began to creep away from the pair, though not before he heard Oghren state: "Nothing... unless being hot counts." He rolled his eyes at his friends attempt at seduction, it was woeful. Silently, he reached the nearest weapon, and managed to arm and fire the missile without alerting the guards to his presence. Which was fortunate for him, but worrying for the security of the fort. It seemed they truly did employ imbeciles. With the guards distracted, Zevran and Oghren slipped into the next corridor, and firmly shut and bolted the door behind them. The last thing they needed was to worry about a back attack.

"And this is where we dispense with charm and subterfuge," he stated, drawing his daggers. "These guards will know we have no business here."

* * *

**Author's Note**  
**I think this chapter is fairly self explanatory, and it doesn't diverge too much from the game. Though I do like the idea of the others loitering around the place, waiting to help if the need to. **  
**Also, a major FYI for you all. We are moving on the 9th October &amp; we currently have no idea when we will have net sorted in our new home. So there will be a gap in posting for an undetermined amount of time, I may be able to hijack my parent's connect during that time, but there is no guarantee. I promise this story is not being abandoned, nor is it really going on hiatus, I'm just not sure when I will be able to post again after this week due to the move.**


	67. Rescued

**Rescued **(Amell PoV)

There was a clink as the door to their cell was unlocked, and Garnet tensed in fear, dreading what was about to happen. Then, she forced herself to scramble to her feet, though kept in a low crouch. Mentally, she scolded herself. She wasn't some timid circle mage anymore, she was a warden. And though her powers where still drained, she did have the skills that Zevran had diligently taught her. Garnet knew she wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight, not with how battered and injured she was, but she was determined to make the guards lives as difficult as possible. Alistair had also followed her lead, crouching down into a position that he could make a charge at anyone who would enter the cell. It was probably suicide, but so was waiting around for whatever Loghain had planned for them. However, relief swept over her, the moment she saw Zevran and Oghren framed by the doorway. They were both dressed in garishly bright clothing, with blood splattering them entirely, and neither had ever looked so magnificent. Garnet wasn't surprised to see Zevran holding dual daggers, though she couldn't help but wonder how Oghren had managed to acquire a great maul, as she seriously doubted the guards had simply let the berserker walk in with it. Unceremoniously, Garnet sank to the floor, her aching and bruised legs refusing to hold her up any longer. She bowed her head, her matted red hair falling in front of her face, obscuring the damaged from her friends. Irrationally, she felt like she had let them down.

"Ancestors! If you look like that, I dread to see the other person," Oghren guffawed, in his usual manner.

He set down some clothing in front of her, ones that suspiciously looked like her own black leather, skirted leggings and chest guard. There was also a large blue tunic, something Garnet was very grateful for, as she doubted she would be able to tie her usual corseted top with the way her rids protested. The dwarf also dumped a pile of clothing in front of Alistair. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't his armour, but what looked liked the clothes of a farm labourer. It wouldn't exactly offer him protection, but it would give him some modesty back, and at least they were free from blood.

"Oghren, can you open the next cell?" she asked quietly.

From beneath her hair, Garnet watched as the dwarf regarded her, then eyed the other prisoner before nodding. She thought she heard him mutter: "Whatever you want" as he went to do as she bid, but she wasn't entirely sure. Gingerly, Garnet began trying to dress, though was unable to stop the hiss of pain escaping her, as she tried to tug the oversized tunic over her head. It seemed her shoulder had also been damaged, though she hadn't noticed before. Immediately, Zevran was kneeling by her side.

"Allow me, mi amora," he whispered.

Garnet kept her head bent the entire time that Zevran helped her dress in the blue tunic, and also when he carefully helped her stand. She was embarrassingly shaky on her feet, her battered legs protesting holding up her weight. Garnet couldn't really figure out how she would manage to pull on her leggings, but thankfully the tunic _did_ reach her mid thighs, so it wasn't much of a necessity. Especially since there was evidently no chance she would be able to fight in the condition she was in. Gently, Zevran helped keep her stable, as he slowly brushed the hair from her face. Garnet tensed, fighting the urge to flinch as he revealed the damage to her face. He looked furious, as he regarded her, and Garnet's heart sank. Without a word he picked her up, bridal style, and cradled her to his body. She watched as his jaw tensed as he noticed the bruises on her legs, ones that were evidently finger and hand shaped. A wave of nausea washed over Garnet, and she shut her good eye tightly, trying to block out just how angry her lover looked.

* * *

**Author's Note****  
As I said in my last chapter, I am moving... tomorrow in fact! So this is definitely the last update for at least a fortnight. Hopefully by the everything will be sorted &amp; our internet will be connected, but there is no guarantee. So, this is a warning there will be no updates in the next few weeks but a promise that this story is NOT being abandoned or put on hiatus. I will update asap, thank you for your patience.  
I always thought it was strange that the warden doesn't appear to be mistreated when in Fort Drakon, over than being practically naked. And it also bothered me that you seem to leave the other prisoner behind. So I thought I'd change that!**


	68. Aftermath

****Aftermath ****(Zevran PoV)

Zevran paced like a caged animal outside the door to their room. Beyond the stout oak panel, Morrigan and Leliana diligently tended to Garnet, with Wynne aiding Alistair further down the corridor. Both wardens had been in bad shape when they had been rescued, but it seemed Garnet had been dealt the brunt of the abuse. And Zevran's mind seemed to be delighting in torturing him, with scenarios of what sort of ordeal _his_ warden had suffered through. The marks and bruises on Garnet's legs alone told an ugly tale. If he were ever to find those who had laid a finger on her, he would gut them alive. At that moment, Leliana slipped out of the room. She was still wearing the disguise she had worn inside Fort Drakon, though hers was decidedly less bloody than the clothes he was still wearing. His fellow rogue gave him a small smile, but shook her head as she regarded him.

"You should really get cleaned up," Leliana stated. "It wont do Garnet any good to see you in that state."

"How is she?" Zevran asked, ignoring the chastisement.

"Better than you might expect. Her skull was slightly cracked, as you suspected, but Morrigan has managed to heal it. Her eye isn't damaged, despite the swelling. Several ribs were broke and her shoulder knocked slightly out of joint. All of which has been healed. I think the Templar's smite has done more damage than anything physical she endured, because her powers still haven't returned. Which is why she couldn't heal herself," Leliana explained, before closing the distance between them. She lay a hand on his shoulder, before whispering in his ear: "Despite the marks on her body, they didn't assault her."

"Are you sure?!" he demanded, his voice a harsh whisper.

To her credit, Leliana merely nodded. "Yes. In her own words: 'Do you think I'm stupid enough to want to risk getting pregnant by one of those bastards? If they'd done that, you would know'. Garnet admitted they'd groped her, that's how she was marked, but it seemed one of the female guards put a stop to it before it went any further."

For a moment, Zevran regarded his fellow rogue in silence, trying to gage if she was lying in order to save his feelings. Leliana looked back at him with unwavering blue eyes, her gaze open and honest. He let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. Despite being a bard, Zevran knew the Orlesian was extremely honest when it came to dealing with her friends, and things that mattered on a personal level. So he was inclined to believe her.

"Can I see her?"

Just then, Morrigan exited the room, gently shutting the door behind her as she did. Unlike Leliana, it seemed the witch had ripped the Chantry robes from her body the moment she was able to, and was wearing her familiar black trews and purple shift. However, her face was still scrubbed clean, which made her appear younger... despite the tired look in her eyes, and the furrow of her brow.

"She is sleeping," Morrigan informed. "I've given her a draft which will hopefully restore some of her mana and powers, but she will be weak for a number of days. A smite is a nasty thing, even without the other injuries she's endured."

Zevran just nodded mutely.

"Garnet will be fine. I'd advise cleaning yourself up before joining her in bed. _No_ amorous activities," the witch continued, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "She needs to rest and rebuild her strength. I will skin you alive, if you hamper her healing."

Once again, Zevran just nodded. Right at that moment, he didn't really trust his voice to speak. He was overwhelmed by the welcome news that Garnet would be alright, as well as the feeling of relief that was almost a physical sensation. Even without Morrigan's warning, he had no intention of doing anything that his warden hadn't asked for first. Though, with Morrigan's warning, he would endeavour to be more careful not to bend to Garnet's requests, until he was certain she was fully healed. Zevran refused to take any chances with his mage's recovery.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****So, even though I've managed to get the internet up and running in the new flat, the place is throwing up a LOT of unexpected issues &amp; surprised. Unfortunately, this means I will not have as much time as I would like (or previously had) to be able to write new chapters. Which means that my updating will most likely move to being once a fortnight, instead of once a week. Just until we are a little more settled... but to give you an idea of the place, we don't actually have a usable bathroom right now! Wish us luck &amp; I promise to update as regularly as I possibly can. Thanks for your patience &amp; understanding!**


	69. Gratitude

**Gratitude **(Amell PoV)

Groggily, Garnet blinked her eyes open. Everything still hurt, but it had dulled to a throb, rather than the agony she had felt before. To her surprise, she found Zevran lying beside her, clad in only a pair of brown trews. Breathing deeply, she was greeted by the comforting smell of sandalwood, indicating that he had no long bathed. Carefully, Garnet snuggled closer to him, glad of his presence and hummed in contentment, as he began to stroke her hair.

"I... did not thank you before," Zevran said suddenly. "It occurs to me now... that you have freed me from the Crows, and yet, I did not think to thank you for it."

Garnet's brow furrowed. After everything that had happened recently, namely his timely rescue of her from Fort Dracon, she never expected their first conversation upon her awaking, would be about the Crows. As far as Garnet was concerned, there was nothing he needed to thank her for. Putting aside the fact he was her lover, Zevran was her friend and Garnet knew she would always stand by those she cared about, no matter what.

"Zev..." she began.

The assassin shook his head, not quite meeting her eyes. "No matter why you did it, still it was done, and I the benefactor. So... thank you."

It seemed there was something more going on in his mind than his words were revealing, it left Garnet feeling perplexed. Determined not to whimper in discomfort, she struggled to push herself into a more upright position, trying not to wince as she did so. Even though it was obvious she was well on the mend, Garnet was not as healed as she would have liked to be, most likely because her mana levels still felt so ridiculously low. Without comment, Zevran helped her find a comfortable position, even plumping pillows for her, before he resumed the gently stroking of her hair. Without a word, she moved to lay her head on his bare shoulder.

"Firstly, you did already thank me," Garnet smiled. "And even if you didn't, there is no need to thank me for it. Besides, I'm sure I owe you a least a dozen words of thanks for your timely rescue."

"No, there is a need," Zevran stated, brushing an errant lock of hair from her eyes. "I am simply not accustomed to the customs that come with our... arrangement."

Unable to help herself, Garnet winced at the word; 'Arrangement'. Despite knowing, or at least suspecting Zevran's views on romance, it stung more than it should. Even though she had tried so hard not to fall in love with the assassin, Garnet knew that she had. Head over heels in fact.

"In the crows, we do not have 'friends', and yet... here you are, and I cannot but consider you such," he continued, somberly.

The faintest of smiles formed on Garnet's lips. It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but she could imagine it was hard enough for Zevran to admit a friendship, let alone anything else. However, the way he acted with her, the fact he had almost single handedly stormed a fortress to rescue her... surely it had to be more than just friendship he felt. Though a small part of Garnet wondered if it was the pain she still felt that was making her brain a little foggy... that was giving her the sense of hope that she felt. Still, Garnet found herself taking a deep, steadying breath.

"I think of you as more than a friend," she whispered.

There was a moment's silence, before Zevran began to speak, quietly. "I... must admit that I... have thought of you in the same way. I simply had no idea you might... feel the same way." He paused before adding: "How very novel."

That surprised a huff of laughter from Garnet. It was so utterly 'Zevran', that she couldn't help it. Even knowing it was just his way of deflecting and redirecting the conversation because it was going into territory that he wasn't comfortable with, Garnet still found it sweet and adorable. Two things she doubted anyone else would ever consider the assassin.

"Well... now that that moment's over with..." Zevran started, looking more than a little embarrassed.

"Zev..." Garnet interrupted, taking hold of his free hand. "I do care for you, more than just a friend, but you are also a good friend to me. I doubt I'd be alive right now, if you and Oghren hadn't come for us. So, really... I am the one who needs to say thank you." She paused, tilting her head to look him in the eye. "Also, I am very glad to have met you. Even if you were trying to kill me at the time."

He chuckled at that, before kissing her forehead. "Then allow me to say this," Zevran stated. "What we are doing here... stopping the blight, I cannot think of anything I have ever done which is so worthy. I intend to see this through to the end with you. After all... someone must take responsibility for preventing your untimely death."

"And who is more qualified than a handsome, Antivan assassin," Garnet teased, snaking her arm around his waist.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
**This scene always annoyed me a bit in game. Yes, it can turn out quite sweet, but Zevran **_**had**_** already thanked the warden when he offers the earring. This is just my attempt to rectify it!**


	70. Mistakes Made in Confusion

**Mistakes Made in Confusion **(Zevran PoV)

Zevran sat, starring into the smouldering embers of the fire, before angrily throwing another log onto the dying flames. His mind was in turmoil. He was still angry that Garnet had turned herself over to Loghain's men, relieved and over joyed that she was now safe again and relatively unscathed, as well as confused as to the depth of feelings he felt for the red haired mage. Garnet occupied almost every waking thought he had, and nearly every dream, even though she slept beside him every night. Zevran had found himself looking for his warden in the midst of battle, to check her health and safety, rather than keeping his own guard up. He marvelled at the way Garnet's smile could cheer his mood, no matter how dark it was, and worried about the way his chest felt constricted, whenever men like Bann Teagan... men better than himself, offered her compliments or eyed her appreciatively. He was amazed he found himself thinking of the warden as 'his', and how his heart rate had quickened the previous night, when Garnet had stated that she thought of him as more than a friend. In short, Zevran felt he was a mess.

He heard the door to their chamber open, then close gently, which pulled him from his thoughts. Then quiet, padding footsteps approached his seated position in the high backed armchair. There was no doubt in Zevran's mind that it was Garnet. He had long ago learnt to recognise the sound of her walk, and there was no mistaking the pleasant floral oil she had taken to wearing, since they had come to Denerim.

"Care to join me in bed?" she asked, her voice dropping to the seductive whisper that usually brought him running.

"No!" Zevran exclaimed, despite how the offer stirred him.

He stood up in alarm, mainly from how his own response which startled him, probably as much as he supposed it would have surprised Garnet. As he turned to face her, Zevran caught the flash of shock in her verdant eyes, which was swiftly followed by a look of pure hurt. Zevran's chest felt constricted when he saw that, hating knowing he had caused her pain. However, Garnet quickly schooled her face into the mask she often worn in public. Polite, amicable, but confident. Seeing her adopt that look in front of him, because of him, made Zevran's chest constrict once again. It was a concerning sensation.

"I... no. I mean no offence, I simply... no," he tried to apologise, stuttering as he spoke.

"Alright..." she said at length, looking a little confused. "I'm sorry...?"

"You do not need to apologise," he quickly reassured her. "Just... do not ask."

"Okay...?" Garnet replied, cautiously.

She seemed anything but convinced, and was being to regard him obvious concern, making Zevran feel more confused, and also guilty. He shut his eyes, as much to block out her beautiful face, as it was to hide from her worry filled eyes. Garnet always seemed to manage to make him feel like he had something to answer, even when she hadn't asked a question. To make matters worse, Zevran also knew the warden didn't even know the effect she had on him. Which just went to show how dangerous the feelings he felt for her were. He was giving her power over him.

"I do not wish to talk about it," Zevran stated, with the annoyance he was feeling creeping into his voice.

"If you are sure..."

"I am," he interrupted. "We have plenty of other things to deal with, after all."

"That... we do," Garnet replied, hesitantly. "However... if you..."

"Enough!" Zevran snapped, glaring at her. "I said... I am not interested."

It was a lie, despite his anger, and he knew that. In truth, the anger Zevran felt wasn't even directed at the fiery mage, it was at himself. It was his own fault he let her consume so much of his time, so much of his thoughts. It was his own fault that he had gone against everything he had ever been taught, everything that he knew to be true. It was his own fault that her lov...

"Can you not understand that?" Zevran grit out, trying to block out what his mind was thinking. "There are other things for you to focus on besides me, I am certain. Do... do those."

Once again, the look of hurt was back in Garnet's eyes, and to Zevran's quiet horror, he was sure he could see tears beginning to form. However, before a single one fell, the mage's face was a mask again. It would have made Zevran marvel, how quickly she could hide her emotions, except he knew the reason. There had been more than one night, where he had woken up to the sound of her crying softly, and ended up coaxing horror story after horror story from Garnet, of her time in the Circle tower. She had learnt to hide her emotions, because it was the only way to survive her imprisonment. A sentiment Zevran understood all too well.

In complete silence, Garnet nodded her head sharply, before turning abruptly on her heel and striding out of their chamber door. She moved with force and purpose, and from a lesser woman, Zevran would have expected a slammed door. However the warden shut it carefully, but deliberately, before her footsteps began to recede. Heading towards the estate's main hall. It was at that exact moment, that Zevran realised he may have just made the biggest mistake of his life. The weight he felt in his chest was crushing.

* * *

**Author's Note  
****First up, sorry for any confusion this morning. Pregnancy related sleep deprivation caused me to accidentally upload the last chapter again, thinking it was this one, even though I knew I hadn't actually finished editing this chapter at the time!  
Other than that, this is obviously my interpretation of Zevran's freak out. Which, once again, seemed to be a little sudden/out of the blue (at least where it happened in my first playthrough!)**


	71. Unexpected Friendship

**Unexpected Friendships **(Amell PoV)

Clad in only Zevran's old white shirt with a heavy woollen throw wrapped snuggly around her, Garnet sat curled up next to the large hearth in the great hall. She was staring into the flames, still desperately trying to control the tears that wanted to fall. Cadoc lay beside her, his large meaty head rested heavily, but comfortingly, on her lap. Garnet knew she should be focusing on the upcoming Landsmeet, but she couldn't stop replaying the conversation she had just had with Zevran. She had never known him to behave like that, it left her feeling lost and adrift. And for the life of her, Garnet couldn't think what she might have done, or what could have happened to cause the change in him. Especially since Zevran had been extra attentive since her rescue from Fort Dracon.

"Can you not sleep, my lady?" a voice called.

Blinking in surprise, Garnet turned her head in the direction of the voice. Bann Teagan stood leaning against the stout oak table that ran nearly the fully length of the room, regarding her kindly. He worn brown woollen trews and a plain cream cotton shirt, indicating he had been heading for bed. Garnet hoped she had not disturbed him, as she and Cadoc had hurried down the corridors, away from the chamber she shared with Zevran.

"There is much on my mind," she answered, as truthfully as she could.

The smile that Teagan gave her was almost knowing, and Garnet watched in silence as her fellow red head simply nodded, before heading towards an ornately carved, oak sideboard. Without preamble, he quickly produced a glass bottle, etched with the Guerinn coat of arms and filled with a tawny red liquid, along with two tumbler glasses. Cadoc huffed in slight annoyance when his sleep was disturbed, as the Bann came to sit with them. Garnet managed a weak smile, and gratefully accepted the filled glass that he offered her. In a silence that was quickly becoming comfortable, they sipped their drinks, and Garnet was pleased to find the nutty flavour of aged port dancing on her tongue. She couldn't help but hum in approval.

Teagan gave a quiet chuckle. "I am glad the lady approves," he stated. "Your smile is very becoming."

"Thank... you," Garnet replied, a little hesitantly. Completely taken by surprise by his compliment.

"Come now, my dear lady, I am sure you are not unused to hearing the truth," the Bann teased. "Your rogue seems like the sort to express such things."

At the mention of Zevran, Garnet was unable to keep her smile from faulting. At that moment, she was so unsure of their unconventional relationship, that she doubt he was 'hers' at all. Knowing it was probably not the smartest thing to do, she drained the rest of drink, before setting the glass to the side. Teagan only looked mildly surprised, before his grey eyes turned gentle as he regarded her.

"Ah..."

To Garnet's relief, the Bann actually followed suit, downing his remaining drink then discarded his glass next to hers. After a moment's hesitation, he took her hands in his, squeezing them companionably. She gave him another weak smile.

"I did not believe it was the Landsmeet keeping you awake, my lady," he admitted, quietly. "Am I to presume it has something to do with your... lover?"

A small smile threatened to form at the Bann's hesitance to call Zevran such, though she was thankful Teagan hadn't him 'her elf', or something similar. However, Garnet chose to simply nod in response, figuring it was the best balance between keeping her personal affairs private, and not appearing rude. For his part, the Bann gave her hands another light squeeze.

"Do not worry, I do not seek to drive a wedge between you, nor do I wish to pry," Teagan smiled. "Though I will admit, had I not witnessed you two together, I would be an eager suitor. But it is evident the affection and regard you have for each other."

Garnet's eyes widened in shock, both from his admission and his assessment. Though, as she went to speak, Teagan shook his head.

"My lady, you are a beautiful, intelligent woman," Teagan stated. "Any man would be lucky to have you give them your attention. I am certain your rogue knows this, or he would not look so murderous whenever another man talks to you."

She went to protest, but her companion chuckled.

"Oh, he will not let you see. No man likes to show his jealousy, but trust me when I say it is there," he smiled. "I do not know what has happened between you, but I am sure it is nothing more than a passing misunderstanding. If I may be so bold, my lady, it is very clear he loves you."

Once again, Garnet's eyes widened and she shook her head. "Thank you, my lord, but I am afraid I do not have your conviction."

"Take heart," he implored, gently. "And trust me. I doubt your rogue would take kindly to me saying this, but he stalked the corridors outside your room like a caged animal after your return from Fort Dracon. He loves you, and I dare say more than life itself, for the stunt he pulled getting you out of Loghain's clutches." The Bann paused for a moment, eyeing her critically. "And to you, my dear lady, it is just Teagan."

Despite not knowing if his words were true, or just said in comfort, Garnet was touched and lifted by them all the same. At any rate, it was sweet that the Bann would take time to cheer her up, especially at such a Maker-forsaken hour, if the twelfth chime of the chantry's bell was anything to go by. And Garnet doubted she would have gotten through the night without shedding a tear, if it hadn't been for Teagan. She lightly squeezed his hands in thanks.

"And to you, it is just Garnet," she smiled in reply.

* * *

**Author's Note**  
**I do love Teagan, I think he's such a great character &amp; I wish more had been done with him during the games. Thus this chapter really.**


	72. Consequenses

**Consequences **(Zevran PoV)

The minutes had turned into nearly two hours, before the door to their room opened slowly. However, Zevran didn't bother to raise his head from where it rested in his hands. It was true that he felt like a fool, but something inside Zevran halted him from retracting his earlier out burst, and all but begging Garnet for forgiveness, which was the least he knew he should do... Perhaps it was pride that stopped him. Perhaps it was fear. He really wasn't sure anymore.

"My answer has not changed," he said, but without the venom from early.

"You are a fool." Came the lofty reply.

Zevran whipped his head up at the sound of the voice, for it was not Garnet's. Instead, he found Morrigan leaning against the stone door frame, her unnerving yellow eyes eyeing him with open disdain. A cold shiver ran down his spine, involuntarily. The witch's presence did not bode well.

"I do not know what you have done or said to make Amell sit staring into flames, but unless you rectify it immediately, I will make you pay dearly for your mistake." Morrigan paused, as an almost cruel smile formed on her lips. "Or perhaps the Bann will. Since it is he who is the one currently consoling her over a bottle of wine."

Driven by instinct, and without waiting to hear what else the witch had to say, Zevran shot to his feet and shouldered passed her, bound for the great hall. It was the only place that he could image Garnet would be conversing with the Bann. Or at least... he hoped that is where they were. Zevran doubted he would be able to cope with finding his fiery mage in the arms of another man, even if he had pushed her there himself. His heart was pounding in his chest, he knew he had been such a fool. He just hoped against hope that he wasn't going to pay the ultimate price for his stupidity. Thankfully, to his great relief, Zevran found the pair sitting by the large hearth that took up one end of the great room. Unusually, they were both sitting on the floor, with Cadoc sprawled between them being petted. Zevran's gut twisted, they made a handsome picture together. However, he knew he had to at least try, he owed Garnet that much. So acting more confident that he felt, Zevran strode towards the pair.

"But I see I am not the only one who wishes to comfort such a beautiful lady," the Bann said, smiling at Garnet. "Please, enjoy the rest of the port. I will see you before the landsmeet tomorrow."

When the Bann went to kiss Garnet's hand, the warden unexpectedly cupped his cheek, which sent a cold shiver down Zevran's spine. Perhaps he was already to late.

"Thank you, Teagan," she smiled. "You're a good man, and a good friend."

The Bann chuckled. "It is no great hardship to converse with a lady as lovely as yourself, Garnet. Especially when I owe you my brother's and nephew's lives."

With that Bann Teagan left, nodding courteously to Zevran as he passed. Still seated by the hearth, Garnet silently poured more of the rich red port, surprisingly sliding the glass in his direction, before turning to gaze back to the flames. Cadoc whined, shuffling to lay his large head on his mistress' lap, but not before glaring at Zevran first. Cautiously, he sat beside her, in much the same way the Bann had been seated. However, an uncomfortable silence shrouded them, something that had never happened before. Zevran shifted uncomfortably, trying to think how to break the icy atmosphere.

"You seem... different now," Garnet said, quietly.

Zevran risked glancing at her, and was sure he could see tears in her verdant eyes. His chest constricted, knowing he was the cause. "Are you certain you wish to talk about this? I really do not know what to say."

"I do not expect you to do anything you do not wish to do," she replied, monotonously. "Lest of all, anything concerning me."

Suddenly Garnet rose to stand, and without thinking Zevran scrambled to his knees and grabbed her wrist, knocking over the port in his haste. Cadoc growled, low and menacing. The mabari's snout was mere inches from his face, yet Zevran kept his eyes on his warden. Even if all he could see was the fall of her red hair, burnished like her namesake in the firelight.

"I... no, this..." He sighed, agitated at his stuttering. "I have acted like a child, I realise this and apologise. Allow me to explain?"

Garnet gave an almost imperceivable nod, but still did not turn to face him. However, Zevran refused to be discouraged. She was allowing him a chance to explain, and he hoped that small gesture meant something.

"An assassin... must learn to forget sentiment. It is dangerous," he began. "You take your pleasures where you can, when life is good. To expect anything more would be reckless. I thought it would be the same between us. Something to enjoy, a pleasant diversion and nothing more. And yet..."

When silence fell between them once more, born from Zevran fighting to find he words to say, Garnet glanced over her shoulder at him. Her expression was mostly blank, the mask she would wear when dealing with those she did not trust. It tore at Zevran, to see that look direct at him. Though there was a small glimmer of hope when Garnet raised an eyebrow.

"And yet?" she asked, sombrely.

Zevran sighed, as he moved to stand. "I do not know how to say this."

"Are you saying you are in love with me?" Garnet asked, finally turning to face him.

There was no coyness in her voice as she asked, perhaps some skepticism, but nothing coy or flirty. As far as the warden was concerned, Zevran knew she was merely asking a question she wanted a honest answer to. However, he unexpectedly felt the tips of his ears beginning to burn. And realised for perhaps the first time since childhood, he felt embarrassed. Not at her question, but because of his lack ability to answer fully. In truth, Zevran was ashamed he was unable to tell his mage everything he felt for her.

"I... do not know," he replied, hesitantly. "How would you know know such a thing?"

"You know," Garnet replied, quiet but resolute. "Trust me... you know."

There was something in her tone that kindled the hope he felt, and gingerly, Zevran took both of her hands in his.

"I grew up among those who sold the illusion of love, and then I was trained to make my heart cold in favour of the kill. Everything I was taught says what I feel is wrong. Yet, I cannot help it. Since that first night together, I have been nothing but confused. Do you... understand me at all?"

The barest hint of a smile formed on Garnet's full lips. "Better than you know," she whispered. "Do you think romance was permitted in the tower? Friendships could be risky enough. But to fall in love... that came with the risk of the Templar's tearing you apart. Or worse, one of you being made tranquil."

Zevran blinked at her, he had never considered this before. Though when he thought about it, it made a sickening, logical sense. She had once referred to the tower as a gilded cage, and he himself saw the Circles as nothing but a prison. It also explained the strange way that Templar... Cullen, had acted. At least he supposed... seeing the woman you had fallen in love with with another man... that must be agony. The mere though Garnet was with the Bann had tore at Zevran, and it was not something he ever wanted to experience. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to look deep into Garnet's verdant eyes. Whatever the outcome, he had a feeling it was now or never. And no matter what else he was, Zevran believed that he was not a coward.

"All I need to know, is if there might be a future for us, some possibility of..." He paused in frustration, annoyed that the words still would not come. His eyes closed tightly. "I do not know what."

At the sound of Garnet's gentle chuckle, Zevran's eyes snapped open. He found the warden regarding him with a look so full of genuine warmth, and even love, that his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. The look was honest, and he dared hope it meant what he wanted it to mean. What he never thought he would have.

"I... believe so," she replied, almost shyly.

If asked later, Zevran would deny that he wasted precious moments almost gaping at her in surprise, before hurriedly fishing out the earring from the pouch at his side. He had carried it with him ever since Garnet had placed it in his hand for safe keeping, when she let herself be taken by Loghain's men. Now seemed the most appropriate time to return it to her, though this time Zevran wanted her to know the real meaning behind it.

"This does belong to you," he started. "But would you accept it again... if I said it was a token of affection?"

A sparkle entered Garnet's eyes, one Zevran hadn't seen before. "Are you proposing?" she asked, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

_'YES!'_ his subconscious screamed.

"Not... unless you wish it," he replied, hedging his bets.

Garnet shook her head, though her smile was fully present. "Yes," she said, softly. "I do not know what the future holds, but I do know how I feel about you."

Zevran swallowed thickly passed the unexpected lump in his throat. And for a moment, it felt as if his heart stopped. It struck him then, that he had just asked Garnet to marry him... and she had said yes. Yes. He pulled his fiery mage into his arms, perhaps more forcefully than originally intended, if the soft 'umph' she gave was any indication. Beside them, Cadoc gave a happy yap as Garnet began to giggle. Zevran held her close, burying his face into the crook of her neck, blinking back the tears that began to prick his eyes. After several calming breaths, he pulled back enough to see the affection in her sparkling eyes.

"Then we need say no more. That is all I wished to hear," he smiled, fastening the gold hoop into her ear. "I am sorry for acting so strangely. I think I will be better, now. Much better."

* * *

**Author's Note****  
I guess I better dedicate this chapter to ****starryskyondragon'sback****,** **who I'm convinced is obsessed about that damn earring! Also, I'd like to wish everyone reading a very happy holiday season, whichever you are celebrating.  
**


	73. JUST A NOTE

Hello

Firstly, I want to apologise once again that my stories haven't been updated as regularly as they were, and also thank you for your patience &amp; continued support. With that in mind, I want to be completely honest &amp; open with you (though I promise, I'm not about to tell you that any stories are going on hiatus, or being cancelled).  
As most know by now, I am very heavily pregnant &amp; expecting my first child at the end of the month. Or at least I was. I've recently spent several days in hospital due to complications &amp; it now looks like I will be being induced early. Only they can't actually tell me when. Some stories already have chapters pre-written, some do not &amp; as I'm sure you can appreciate, I'm currently not in the right place to create any new content.

I promise you, I will be doing my best to continue these stories &amp; any with chapters already written will be being updated as much as current content allow. I am so very sorry about this development &amp; hope you can understand and be patient. I promise, they will all continue, I just can't give you a timeline as to when. I'm sorry.

Yours Sincerely,

Garnet Seren


	74. The Morning After

**The Morning After **(Amell PoV)

Garnet stretched languidly, her eyes blearily opening, as the wan dawn light barely filtered through the heavy velvet drapes. Her muscles felt deliciously sore, a pleasant reminder of the amorous activities that had kept her and Zevran preoccupied for most of the night. Despite knowing what the day likely bring, Garnet couldn't help the wave of happiness that washed over her. After the terrible start to the previous evening, she still could hardly believe that Zevran had proposed. The first time he had asked in a round about way had be special enough... though it was the second time that Garnet would hold most dear. Especially the way his hands shook as they held hers, and the unshed tears in his eyes as he properly asked her to marry him, once they had been safely in the privacy of their chamber. With this memory in mind, a gentle smile formed on Garnet's lips as she rolled onto her side to face her fiancé. She was only slightly surprised to find Zevran already regarding her with open affection.

"Good morning, mi amora," he greeted, his Antivan accent made thicker by sleep.

She hummed in contentment as Zevran lightly caressed her face, before moving to pull her close to his naked chest. Garnet went willingly, enjoying the warmth that radiated from his body, as she curled into his embrace. There was something that just felt _right_ when she was in his arms, something that life in the circle had never let her hope for. Sure... there had been plenty of fleeting trysts with fellow mages, and her long running crush on a certain Templar, but nothing had prepared Garnet for feeling safe in the arms of another. Let alone in the arms of an assassin that had once tried to kill her. Unable to help herself, a sleepy giggle escaped her. Zevran pressed his lips to her unruly red hair.

"You are in good humour, cariño," he murmured, an evident smile in his voice.

"Waking up to you, how could I fail to be?" she quipped, snuggling closer.

"I am pleased that my bed warming services are still palatable," he retorted.

Chuckling, Garnet shook her head. Even after the many months they had been together, the fears and dark secrets they had shared, she was glad they could still sass each other as they did. It reminded her of their first night together, when their relationship shifted from friends and sexual tension to actual lovers. It was something Garnet hoped would never change.

"They are satisfactory," she replied, deadpan.

Zevran's answering laugh was rich and warm. "Satisfactory?! I am offended, mi amora. I have it on good authority, from a certain beautiful Grey Warden, that my services far exceed satisfactory."

Just as she was about to retort something regarding Alistair, Garnet found herself playfully being pushed onto her back. Zevran moved over her, coming to lie in between her legs, bringing their naked bodies flush and his evident arousal making itself known. He smiled impishly, before deftly running his tongue over the pulse point of her throat. A soft moan escaped Garnet, and Zevran chuckled in response.

"Perhaps I should remind you?" he queried, dryly.

She gently tangled her hands in his blonde locks, ghosting her lips over his. "Perhaps you should."


	75. Leaving - A Note to My Readers

Due to the recent intellectual property theft from this site (February 2016) and FanFic's failure to do anything to protect content creators, I wanted to inform my readers that I will transferring all of my works to Archive of Our Own. You will find me under: GarnetSeren when you go to search, then people.

During this process, I will be editing the stories as I go. So they may not be fully up to date for a few weeks, if you decide to continue to follow them over on AO3. Also, certain oneshots such as 'Okasan' will be made part of a collection called 'Shepard's Men'. Curretly I am working on my Mass Effect fic; This One's Heart is Pure (as it has the most chapters), then I will move on to my Dragon Age stories.

I hope that you will continue to follow my work over on AO3. Though if you decide not to, I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for all your support over the two years I have been posting to FanFic. It's meant the world to me &amp; I will greatly miss interacting with you all. My stories will remain active on this site in their current state, until the end of March, when they will be deleted. By then I should have the majority moved over to AO3. For anyone who will be joining myself over there, I look forward to talking to you again soon.


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